


Wolfsbane

by madrastic



Series: From the Nowhere Archives [2]
Category: Original Work
Genre: Childhood Trauma, Dragons, F/F, Fae & Fairies, Fantasy, High Fantasy, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Abuse, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, Interspecies Relationship(s), Lesbian Character, M/M, Magic, Multi, Nonbinary Character, Other, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Past Child Abuse, Politics, Romance, Royalty, Slow Build, Slow Burn, you ever wanted a fantasy political thriller suplot.... bc i gotchu
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-07-24
Updated: 2020-11-08
Packaged: 2021-03-04 17:41:27
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 11
Words: 43,995
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25490305
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/madrastic/pseuds/madrastic
Summary: Finally, after the three month-long journey to the palace, Ahren can take up his diplomatic duties, and Holly can start attending classes. Not all is well in Galailan, though. There's trouble brewing on the horizon while Aidia tears the royal library apart, searching for any shred of evidence to tie her to the throne, and Marsh is contacted by a man that seems to know a bit too much about them. Never mind the rumblings of war with the Solaq...Book 1| [Book 2]
Relationships: Original Female Character/Original Female Character, Original Male Character(s)/Original Non-Binary Character(s), Original Male Character/Original Male Character, Original Male Character/Original Male Character/Original Non-Binary Character
Series: From the Nowhere Archives [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1633051
Comments: 6
Kudos: 10





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> as with book 1, this is completely finished and going through the first round of editing. tags will be added as i see fit. as always, special thanks to Blue_Stars_Above for being a great editor <3

It was a great day, and Holly was going to make sure of that. The sun was shining high in the sky, the blue interspersed with the occasional wisp of cloud. Cold weather was only just starting to roll in, a true snow still a few weeks out. Oh, Ahren was going to hate that. He was going to hate that very much, but Holly was more than excited for winter. The chill probably wouldn’t be as deep as it was back home, with snow on the ground for the bulk of winter and the beginnings of spring, but it would be good enough here.

Initially, he had been less than excited to start the process of tracking down this guild. An entire city and just a first name to go off of was far from promising. Hollyhock had expected days, if not weeks, of wandering through quarters and streets, doing his best to locate a building he didn’t know the appearance of.

More than anything he missed the familiarity of home. He knew where everything was back there, where to go for a meal or for a very specific mechanical part that  _ only _ Elderberry-three-hours-away had. It was so confusing in the capital, with its old, twisting streets and crowded buildings. This had to be more people than he’d ever seen in his life.

What  _ was _ here that Holly didn’t have at home was a registry of all the local guilds. Gods, that was a blessing, especially when Hollyhock had managed to get the address of the guild Albazar, liar supreme, had belonged to. He  _ was _ going to get a membership, that or make a new friend or two. Really, it was ridiculous, that he had to jump through so many hoops when he was already patroned.

The streets of the city were winding, ancient cobblestones worn down by weather and generation upon generation of footsteps. Drainage ditches lined the sides of the roads, narrow enough for pedestrian traffic and lined with buildings carved in old architectural styles. Instead of the more modern tiled paving of the newer sectors, the Old Quarter was like stepping into the past. This guild must have been wealthy to afford a building in such a historic part of the city.

At least he knew something about this part. The entire carriage ride here, Aidia had been happily rambling about the various bits of the city, eager to talk about history. According to her, the Old Quarter was the oldest part still in use, just past the original city walls. Seeing this, he could believe it.

An intersection spat him out into a small plaza, and Hollyhock could see the guild hall just across on the other side. It was a big building, at least three stories high, a large yard peeking out from behind. The wood was rich and dark, ornamented with gold and bronze, windows glittering and clean. If anything, it reminded Holly of the city halls they had in the southern parts of Northwest Territories, modeled after the Dwarvish churches far into the Sand Wastes on the Red Plateau, with their strong columns, stained glass, and arching architecture.

There was a lion’s head knocker on the door, seemingly modeled after some mythical monster he had never heard of. The door was unlocked though, a sign proclaiming them open. Evidently, the bottom floor doubled as a sort of bar, for the guild to make money from another source. Aidia had mentioned something about guilds needing to give back to the community to be officially registered.

As Holly entered, he found that the room inside was far larger than it appeared, with a bar off to one side, staffed by a casually dressed human woman. Something about her was… wrong. Hollyhock couldn’t put his finger on it, but a voice whispered in the back of his head that this woman was odd. He shouldn’t be getting on her bad side. Behind a parted curtain, stairs led upstairs to somewhere. There were plenty of tables for people to mill about and socialize at in the main room, though it looked rather barren.

That didn’t surprise Holly, the place certainly had an uncomfortable atmosphere. Everyone here was either a full-blooded human or elf, no Humanish people or half-elves in sight. No dwarves, no orcs, no Animusi, no elementals, no dragons, nothing. Just humans and elves who were looking at him like they were surprised he was even able to step across the threshold.

Marsh would have hated this. They would have hated this so much. If everyone was shocked at a half-elf, then a Humanish walking through the door would have caused such a stir. It rubbed Holly the wrong way, how, after some accepting enough towns, he had to deal with his heritage all over again. How annoying.

“Hi?” Hollyhock waved, as he leaned his weight onto one foot, unwilling to make this awkward. “I’m Albazar’s apprentice, he’s dead by the way.”

That certainly didn’t go over well. Immediately, murmuring broke out.

“Albazar didn’t have an apprentice.” A scrawny human man, dressed in what looked like pajamas, stood, crossing his arms.

Oh, so this was how Holly’s day was going to go. “But he did, though. Hi, nice to meet you.”

“No offense,” the man said, meaning full offense, “but I don’t think he’d take something like  _ you _ .”

Frowns broke out around him, an elf woman who was very clearly drunk this early in the morning kicking his chair.

“That’s a bold claim, considering he  _ did _ . Hollyhock Kenning’s my name, he said he sent a letter.”

The drunk woman, who had a shock of red hair—funny, considering red wasn’t a natural color for elves—snapped her fingers. “The annoying half-elf that wouldn’t leave him alone!”

“I wouldn’t call myself annoying.” Holly lifted an eyebrow.

The human nodded, his brown hair an unwashed mess on his head. “I see it now, he was right, you  _ are _ aggravating.”

“Doubtful.”

“Considering you just waltzed up here, and probably without a patron and everything, yeah. I’d call you annoying.”

There was a collective ‘oooh’ as everyone covered their mouths, unwilling to get involved. Oh, Holly was going to kick his ass.

Holly crossed his arms, a sly grin on his face. This idiot didn’t have the experience that came with small town living. “I have a patron.”

“Do you now.” The human looked like he was going to spit at Holly’s feet. “I’d like to see you prove it.”

This guild was full of bitches, then. Their loss. “Sure, gladly.”

When Hollyhock took off his eyepatch, a gasp made its way through the room as he took everyone in, gaze hard and level. The human before him loomed a transparent mask of a person, with a small, almost goblin-like man standing behind it, hands on his hips like an indignant first-year shepherd with a flock that refused to obey him. Strings of annoyance and disdain tied him to nearly everyone else in this place, all in similar states of insecurity.

“Aw, you got a magic scar from a weak-ass patron?” The human taunted. “I bet you can’t even cast.”

The human’s own patron clung to his shoulders like a blanket, though there was something churning in that link. It was unstable, the thought came to Holly like the heavens opening up with rain, this man’s patronship was unstable and under-negotiated. Interesting, very interesting. Ribbons of red curled around the man’s limbs, filling him with a deceptive strength. Well, Holly wasn’t supposed to know that.

Hollyhock couldn’t resist the slash of a smile that fell across his face, Something’s presence smiling behind him. This was going to be fun.

“Oh, is that so?” His tone took on a dangerous quality. He could sense every strand around him, magic flickering through the air, just barely controlled.

“I really do.” His mistake.

“Then it’s on your head.”

At that, everyone made eye contact and ducked beneath the tables except for the human man.  **_Lysander_ ** , the whispering voices hissed in his ear. Lysander. A fitting name for him. Hollyhock opened his mouth and sang, and every string in the room swayed to him, as if caught in a vortex centered on Holly. His body did not move, but, even still, those strings shifted and knotted.

Practice had paid off. Remembering breathing exercises told to him by his patron, meditation he had been walked through, Hollyhock felt his control for the first time. It was… good. It was very good indeed. This was exactly what he had wanted when he began actively speaking with Something, taking and implementing advice. It was as easy as walking, casting. Something had only wanted to help, and help it had.

Horrified,  **_Lysander_ ** took a step back, as something powerful entered into Holly’s eyes, he could sense it, the pinprick of verdant light that shone through his pupil. Lysander barely bothered to hear the lyrics that spilled out of Holly’s mouth, a taunting reprise not in any language known to this plane. Holly was going to get the migraine of his life after this, but who cared. It was so rewarding to just let loose, to see just what his magic could do when he started properly unwinding strings.

Any sound that Lysander tried to speak was drowned out by the sound of silence, his mouth flapping, but no words coming out. Something’s voice twined around Holly’s and  **_sighed_ ** , a grinning, daring  **_sigh_ ** , deep voice like the snap of a bow across the strings. Lysander went pale, as if he’d seen his own ghost dancing on his grave. Maybe he had, it wasn’t like Hollyhock knew anything about the guy, it was Something that was able to read the strings like a biography, whispering discordant instructions into Holly’s ear and showing him out of order flashes of lives that weren’t his.

Taking a step forward, there was something desperate in Lysander’s eyes. The string connecting them slacked as he took another step, and another, and another. And then, he sprinted at Hollyhock, cracking his fist against Holly’s face. There was silence, true silence, the song broken, as Hollyhock touched his hand to his nose, coming away bloody.

“What the fuck, man?” He said, and the manic light in Lysander’s eyes burst into a flame.

He hit him again, though his blows could hardly be called painful. Fine. Holly could play like that. When Lysander’s fist came at him, Holly ducked back, redirecting his arm just like he’d been taught. As Lysander jumped on him, shoving the half-elf to the ground, Holly twisted, landing on top and pinning Lysander’s shoulders. He let himself be a weight on the other man’s hips, wholly uninterested in throwing a punch. This wasn’t even exciting, it was just sad.

Leaning away from a clawed hand and what he presumed to be a failed spell, judging from the red light that had eclipsed Lysander’s pupils, Hollyhock looked around, face set in the most bored expression of confusion he could manage. People stared at him, horrified, unwilling to move. The fist to the side of Holly’s face was his fault for letting his attention stray. Heartsease would have crowed at that.

It rattled his brain more than it should’ve, making him blink stars out of his eyes. The burning heat of a foreign magic wormed in through his skin, fogging up thoughts with only the heat of rage and anger and bloodlust. Everyone around him drew in a breath, hands on their weapons, half-muttered magical shields taking shape in front of them. That was just unnecessary. Taking a deep, slow breath Hollyhock felt his body reject the arcana. The red ichor dripping off of the string connecting Lysander to him faded into nothing as he cleared his thoughts.

That seemed to rattle Lysander, the light dimming somewhat as he came back into his body. “What the fuck  _ are _ you.” His voice wasn’t his own.

“I’m a half-elf.” Might as well be cheeky.

It was a dumb enough response to get him rolled over. Okay, he might have deserved that. Lysander’s patron was stronger than he looked, the red ribbons exerting their force. Lysander’s patron was also dumber and not very spatially aware. As he was rolled, Holly pushed the legs of a table out of the way, making sure neither of them thunked their heads on the wood. A concussion would not be ideal.

“Who  _ are _ you.” The growl was right in Holly’s face, a vain attempt at being intimidating.

His nanny dog had been scarier. “Like I said, Hollyhock.”

As Lysander lifted Holly’s shoulders up as if to slam his head down into the tiled floor, the half-elf had to chuckle a bit.

“Wouldn’t do that.” His voice was easy and light, a twinge of his accent coming through.

“Why not?” Chatty thing. People always talked too much during fights.

Holly’s knee applied a light pressure between Lysander’s legs. “Forgot about your soft spots, bud. You slam my head back, and my first instinct’s going to be to buck up.”

A blank, hollow look passed across Lysander’s face as Hollyhock sat up, apparently stronger than Lysander’s patron as the magic waned. Blinking, Lysander seemed to come back to himself, ever so slightly, bit by bit. The arcane energy faded, though Holly could still sense the presence of Something, worriedly flitting around him.

“Can I get up now?” Holly asked him, slightly more boredom than he’d liked to have revealed in his voice.

“What?” Lysander’s throat was hoarse, like he’d just screamed for hours.

“I said can I get up now? Not that you’re heavy or anything, I just had plans to go to lunch today with my boyfriend.” Drumming his fingers absently on the ground, Holly looked around at the guild, an eyebrow raised.

There was yet more murmuring as people slowly got up, hesitantly shooting Hollyhock glances. Lysander swayed as the magic left him, muttering things to someone Holly couldn’t see. As the last of the red died in his eyes, he slumped against Holly’s chest, half conscious, and weakly patting at Holly’s arms.

“Great. Anyway, uh, fuck you.” Holly patted Lysander’s shoulder without much affection. “I can see I’m better off starting my own guild.”

With a wave, Hollyhock took a step back from Lysander, the man’s brown eyes watching him like he’d just turned water into molten gold. Everyone was, really. Weird. It gave Holly more than a bad feeling, the way people stared at him so openly. As he walked towards the door, bodies parted like the shores of the Great Lake for him, unwilling to even get close. Gods, if this was what guild life was like, Hollyhock never wanted to return. It made his skin crawl, this musty building, the pale faces, the unblinking eyes.

Crossing the threshold into the plaza again, a shudder ran through Hollyhock, unrelated to the chill in the air. The sun had been obscured by clouds that hadn’t been in the sky beforehand, heavy with precipitation. It was… wrong. The sky shouldn’t look like that, Holly’s intuition told him. All he could do was shrug the feeling off as best he could.

Oh, Ahren was going to lose his mind when he saw the bruises on Holly’s face. It was probably going to be ok, hopefully.

\--

Ahren was significantly less okay with the massive bruise on the side of Holly’s face than Holly would’ve expected. Really, he had thought it would warrant some mild conversation and they would get on with their lunch date, no problem at all. Unfortunately, Hollyhock had been wrong, very wrong, and now he had to pay the price of his error.

They didn’t even get into the restaurant, no, not even close. When Holly waved to Ahren, waiting for him on the street the two had agreed on, the smile died on Ahren’s face, replaced with a look of wrathful protectiveness. That was the biggest not-good alert of the day, really. A dragon being overly protective was right up there with other such common nightmares like heights and public nudity. With horror in his eyes, Ahren ran right up to his partner, cradling his face in the middle of the street like there was no one but the two of them. Oh boy.

“Who did this to you.” Ahren’s words came out in a growl. Holly didn’t know Ahren  _ could _ growl.

“It’s nothing.” Honestly, it was far from the worst Holly has ever gotten.

Despite that, he proceeded to be scooped up into Ahren’s arms, held to the dragon’s chest as if he were in the throes of death. “It’s clearly not nothing. We’re going to Marsh  _ right _ now, this isn’t optional.”

As he tried to wiggle his way to the ground, the man was met with resistance. Really, when had Ahren managed to get so strong, this was ridiculous. “We have a lunch date! Ahren!” The last bit came out as something closer to an ineffective whine.

“I swear to you, this will never happen again.” Ahren pressed him even closer into his chest, as if Hollyhock had been shattered into a million little pieces.

Well. This was a conundrum. There were two options presented to Hollyhock, to struggle the whole way or just give in and let Ahren drag him along as he hunted down Marsh. If Holly was being hedonistic, he  _ was _ tired, and it  _ was _ a half-hour’s walk to the palace. What harm could come from that, from indulging his partner. Ahren wouldn’t mind if Holly rested his head against his chest for a moment, in fact, he would probably relish it. The kiss pressed to the top of Holly’s head, protective and stern, spoke volumes to that.

Opening his eyes, Hollyhock immediately realized that he had kept his eyes closed a bit longer than he had initially intended. They were inside, for one thing, and Hollyhock was being set down on a cot, scaled hands careful and gentle around him. The palace rooms they had been afforded surrounded Holly, the windows only partially open and the furnace going as Ahren fretted over him, smoothing down hair and pressing kisses to brows.

Marsh revealed themselves in Holly’s field of view, looking altogether a lot more skeptical of the fatal wounds the half-elf had sustained than Ahren. Their clothes were surprisingly put together, the smell of a doctor’s office lingering on their skin. Wrinkling his nose at the smell of the antiseptic, Holly sat up to a pounding headache. Oh lovely, the side effects of wanton casting. Maybe he could convince Marsh to allocate some of the medication they used for migraines to him, that would be nice.

“I thought you two were going on a date.” Their voice was simple as they handed Holly an ice pack. “Nice shiner.”

“Thanks.” Holly accepted the pack, pressing it to the bruise. Oh, that was going to sting later when it turned all sorts of odd colors.

Sitting down on the edge of the bed, Marsh patted the top of Holly’s head fondly. “Who gave it to you?”

A shrug was enough to get Ahren pacing again, wings twitching in time with Holly’s words. “I had a spat with Albazar’s guild, nothing major. Aidia was right, he never formally did the apprentice thing, but they’re kind of rude anyway. There was this guy being a bit of a bitch, so we had a quick fight. Nothing to write home about, really. He punched me in the face, I slammed him to the ground, pretty boring, in my opinion.”

Marsh nodded, fully aware of how children roughhoused, especially in small towns with nothing else to do. “Did you win?”

That got a cheeky grin out of Holly. “Of course, I did. Wasn’t even that hard, he just magicked himself out and zoned out on me. He was  _ so _ scrawny—worse than me, just got a good swing in, that’s all. It was on me, I wasn’t paying attention.”

“I’m going to make him pay.” Was a very concerning statement coming out of Ahren’s mouth.

Marsh and Holly whipped around to look at him, eyes wide and horrified. That was exactly the last thing anyone wanted, for a royally pissed off dragon to exact what he thought was vengeance on a guild of magic users. That was a nightmare, a genuine nightmare. That was going to get Ahren killed in the worst way possible.

“Please don’t.” There was a wince in Holly’s voice, visions of mossy corpses and vines filling his mind.

A dangerous look flickered in Ahren’s eyes. Oh no. “He  _ hurt _ you.”

Running his fingers through his hair, Holly did his best to put a calming tone to his voice, nothing arcane, just soothing. He tossed his legs off of the edge of the bed, leaning forward to put a warm hand on Ahren’s arm, trying to placate him as best he could. “Really, it’s no big deal. People have arguments and they fight it out, and it’s all good from there. It’s a humanoid thing, I don’t need you to defend me.”

Quietly, Ahren mulled that over, twisting the thought around in his mind. An unhappy grumble slipped out of his mouth. “If he touches you again, we’ll have an issue.”

“Yeah, I’ll call you right away, I promise.” Holly was definitely not going to put  _ Ahren _ in a fisticuffs fight. “Ahren, you know I can defend myself, right? I’m from the middle of nowhere, kids fight for fun all the time.”

“I grew up with six older sisters and wasn’t allowed to leave my room for most of the day. No, I don’t know. I’ve never fought for ‘fun’.” His face was serious, hands holding Holly’s.

“I can teach you if you want—I mean, I don’t know the proper form for anything or whatever, but I’m decent enough at it.” Extracting his limbs from his partner’s, Holly got up, stretching out his limbs, getting the blood flowing again. Nothing worse than just sitting around.

There were stars in Ahren’s eyes, like Holly had offered to teach him the trick to prying the sun from the sky. “I’d love to.”

Cool, that was another thing Holly was going to be doing. This really wasn’t how he expected his life to go, but where was the fun in that.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Related Works:  
> [ Scales Don't Work Well With Lace by Awkward_Dragon](https://archiveofourown.org/works/24123841)
> 
> liked the story? [leave a tip!](https://ko-fi.com/madlysacrosanct)  
> [i have a tumblr!](https://timeslive-inhouse.tumblr.com/)


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It seems that Ahren's medical appointment is going swimmingly.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ahren has healthcare rights

The physician was a Dwarven woman. That was the first thing Ahren noticed, not her office, not her clothing, not the way the paper spread on the couch crinkled under his hands, no. The physician seeing him was of Dwarven descent. He’d never seen a dwarf and was under the impression that very few, if any, lived this close to the coast, though. He had assumed it was something about the sea air that repelled them, though it was more likely the months-long journey over mountains.

She was stocky, with dark brown fur and long, well-kept braids, eyes closer to those of a cat’s than a humanoid’s, wide amber irises with slit pupils. Her clothes were simple and easy to clean, a dark blue lab coat with the royal insignia embroidered over the heart worn over a plain cream shirt and black slacks.

Going to the royal doctor had been the last thing Ahren had expected his day to look like, three months ago. He did his best not to be awkward, picking at the new skin under his shedding scales, an ever-present itch hard to resist. Clearly, she could see what the problem was, with how his shed was revealing a lighter fawn color, somewhere in between that of Holly and Marsh. Maybe this was a sign that he was dying, despite how Marsh soothed.

Sat in her chair with the forms he’d previously filled out on her clipboard the doctor referenced them as she spoke, wearing a set of wire-framed spectacles. “Hello Sair Jarra-Hzsii, my name is Doctor Lend, but most people choose to call me Liz or Elizabeth. You may do the same if you wish, I promise you I will not be offended in the slightest. As you are no doubt aware, I am the royal physician, I have been in the employ of the palace for the past ten years, and I am well-versed in caring for all manner of species, including various subtypes of dragons.”

Ahren cleared his throat, keeping his voice calm and polite. “Thank you, Doctor Elizabeth, for seeing me. You may call me Ahren, if that is more comfortable. It was recommended to me by the Elven Queen to come to you, as there was an issue with my medication.”

Something in her face shifted, as if a deep, roiling hatred for something had bubbled up beneath the veneer of politeness. Her smile was rigid, colder, hands gripping the clipboard like she had half a mind to bludgeon someone to death with it. Ahren felt himself shrink back ever so slightly, wings pressing tighter against his back in a vain attempt to self-soothe. Flipping through some papers, Doctor Lend found what she wanted, skimming over the forms to refamiliarize herself. She was likely a busy woman.

“Ah, yes. Medication, a good place to start as any. Your physician, one Doctor Mallowmarsh, yes?” Ahren nodded, more of a jerk than a real movement. “Have they discussed the effects of these medications with you?”

“Yes, they, um, they did last night. They were not aware that I was to be taking them, though, as I had run out early on my journey and felt it was not important to mention.” Ahren’s hands busied themselves with his skin, picking and picking at the dry flakes.

“Right, was that around the time you reported a two month-long sickness? With weakness, nausea, pain, fatigue, depression, all that and other things?”

“Yes, that is correct.”

Doctor Lend made a note on the papers. “Right, and have you been informed as to the concept of a ‘withdrawal’ from drugs?”

“Yes, my physician discussed that with me as well last night.”

“Right, right. Now, I currently believe that you were suffering from a withdrawal for those two months, would you say you are in agreement?” The way she said it made Ahren want to curl up and die for causing everyone so much worry.

Ahren cast his eyes down. “It would certainly seem as such. Is there something that I should be concerned about?”

“I would prefer to do a full physical to be completely sure. Aside from that, from the information I have been given, and what I can see, I do have some auxiliary concerns. Have you always been unable to reach a humanoid form?”

He paused. “I was under the impression that this  _ is _ my humanoid form, Doctor Lend.”

A beat of silence passed between them as the doctor eyed the patches of new skin. Ahren could feel his cheeks heating up at the attention. “No, Ahren, it isn’t. This is a transitional form that is indicative of a dragon unable to use their magic because of a medication.”

“I…” Brows drawing together, Ahren collected his thoughts. “I have never been able to use magic—would you attribute it to that?”

“No. If you were completely unable to use magic, then you would have remained in your Draconic form.” There was a note of concern in her voice. “It is part of the reason I would very much like to conduct a physical examination; one should not be in this form for any extended period of time.”

Oh. That was quite reasonable, in that case. An examination didn’t fill him with horror like he expected, and there was only so much more he could do to lower his reputation, with how he had arrived with not one, but two consorts. Both of those consorts would be quite angry with him if he didn’t put his own health forward. The three of them had seen each other in various states of undress, it wasn’t an issue for this doctor, who likely saw this regularly.

“I would be willing to submit to a physical examination; it wouldn’t be a problem.” He sounded far calmer than he thought he would. Ahren’s companions were rubbing off on him.

“You’re very level-headed for someone so young, if I may say.” A few notes were made onto the doctor’s papers. “If it is amenable to you, I would be able to perform one after I ask you just a few more questions.”

Ahren kept his face an unreadable mask, doing his very best to hide the anxiety that churned in his stomach. “I am alright with that. What other information do you need from me?”

“Have you had any health issues or concerns during your journey aside from your long sickness?” The doctor’s eyes were clever, a bit disconcerting, the way they seemed to see through anything Ahren used as a shield.

“Nothing in particular.” His voice cracked on the last syllable. “Actually, yes.  _ That _ has been happening, that voice-breaking-thing. Should I be worried about that? My physician believes that I am, as they say, ‘racing through a late puberty’.”

She thought for a moment. “Considering the nature of the medications you were on, as well as the stage of life you are currently in, I agree with Doctor Mallowmarsh that you are going through the physical maturation process at a more accelerated rate.” She nudged her glasses back onto her nose. “The hormone blockers you were taking were responsible for attaching to the receptors, they did not affect the concentrations of androgens, in your case testosterone, the masculinizing hormone, actually present in your blood. Your body responded by overproducing testosterone, as it is important to development.”

Uh-huh, that sounded right about the same as the nonsense syllables Marsh had asserted. “Have there been any negative effects?” Ahren knew the answer to that question already. He didn’t  _ want _ to know the answer, but, even still, he knew it.

Wincing, Doctor Lend tapped the end of her pen against the papers. “Unfortunately, I do believe so. Compared to the average, your growth has been stunted and I am concerned about muscle mass. I couldn’t tell you how much more you’ll grow, but you would never reach the size you were meant to. It is also likely that you will never regain whatever arcane abilities you were born with.”

“Ah.” So, he was right. Unfortunate, but better late than never. “I see.”

“We  _ could _ prescribe you a hormone treatment, but I don’t know how effective it would be, if anything, it would most likely decrease the rate of your development and prolong it in an effort to more accurately simulate puberty, but it would be completely your choice to start or continue it.” That was the last thing Ahren wanted. Might as well get this over with quickly.

“I, ah,” Ahren stalled, picking at his hands again, “I don’t think I have enough information for a decision.”

The doctor did her best to placate him with an easy smile. “Right, that’s perfectly alright. Now, unless you have any questions for me, I think it would be prudent to begin the examination?”

Ahren shook his head, awaiting her instructions. Setting her clipboard down, Doctor Lend retrieved a packet and a thin white gown from one of her drawers. As she turned to him, expectant, there was a flash of doubt in the dragon’s stomach. There was going to be nudity involved, a lot of nudity. This woman was going to see him naked and write down her findings. Somehow, this was worse than Holly exploring all of the spots Ahren didn’t know he had, worse than Marsh learning how to treat dragons in one night.

At his pause, the doctor leaned against the door. “Right, I could step out while you change into this?”

“Everything? Comes off, I mean.” Maker he sounded so young, like a child begging for forgiveness. He hated it.

Nodding, the expression on the doctor’s face was sympathetic. “Everything, sorry. Here, I’ll be right outside the door, just knock when you’re finished, alright?”

Ahren channeled Hollyhock and smiled, all half-Elven charm and confidence. “Oh, it’s no problem at all, thank you.”

Doctor Lend chuckled at that, exiting the room. As the door closed with a resounding click, Ahren felt like he was about to die. This was different from stripping in the room while Holly and Aidia played cards downstairs. For one thing, it was cold. It was cold and chilly in here, the air taking bites out of Ahren’s exposed skin and painting his thoughts with a vague fog, nothing connecting as it should have. It was fine, though, everything was going to be alright.

Despite everything, he could do this. Changing into the gown without much fanfare, the dragon folded his clothes neatly on the edge of the bed-seat-thing. The fabric was short, sitting at just above his knees, letting in all of the cold. That was his predominant thought, the cold. Now that he thought about it, it was cold everywhere in the palace, the rooms, the dining halls, the gardens, the hallways. Somehow, Ahren always felt cold. It was likely the rapidly coming winter, the first frost long since set in. Wonderful, just wonderful.

Shaking his head, Ahren banished that thought and knocked on the door, letting Doctor Lend back in. She regarded him warmly, washing her hands quickly and asking him to sit on the table. Without an argument, Ahren obliged and she kicked over a stool, making up the height difference by standing up on it. Now that Ahren was thinking about it, she couldn’t have been more than four feet tall, if that.

As she took the stethoscope from around her neck and placed the cold metal to his chest, Ahren resisted the urge to flinch as the doctor instructed him to breathe in and out, slowly and deeply. Marsh usually just pressed their ear to his chest and screwed their face up in that cute way that meant they were focusing, most of the time. The stethoscope coming out meant that there was something very wrong indeed, at least, in Marsh’s playbook. Repeating her actions on his back, Doctor Lend nodded, as if she’d found what she thought she would.

“Your heart and lungs sound healthy. Could you lie down? I’d like to check your lymph nodes. Oh, and development, but that can come in a little bit.” She hopped off of her chair, placing the stethoscope on her desk.

Ahren lay back on the table. The paper crinkled loudly as he shifted while Doctor Lend calmly announced what she was going to do with him. He was so used to listening to Marsh’s various hums, from the one that meant ‘I’m going to touch you, so hold still’, otherwise known as a higher-middle pitched quick tone, to the one that meant ‘If you keep wiggling I’m going to pretend to be angry until you stop’, which was a frustrated low thing.

Suffice to say, this was quite different from how Marsh treated him. The doctor started with his neck, feeling the skin just underneath his jaw with cool, firm hands before she moved down along his collarbone, and checked under his arms before pulling back. It was odd, how different this was from Marsh. The medic never really did diagnostics like this, not after the first one. They were more focused on acute injuries over the journey, keeping an eye on any symptoms anyone may have presented. That was the benefit of spending all of one’s time with their patients, it seemed: there was time to spot the issue before it even became one.

“Your lymph nodes aren’t swollen, which is a good sign. Right, hop down, let’s do height and weight.” She placed her chair by the height-measuring-stick-thing in the corner without much trouble. “Let’s do the stadiometer measurement first.”

Pretending to know what a stadiometer was, Ahren crossed over to where the doctor was pointing, following her instructions to stand up straight and pressing the back of his bare feet to the bottom of the measuring. A flat thing was placed atop his head, as if to smooth down hair, and Doctor Lend took the measurement, writing it down on her clipboard. As she freed him, she waved her hand at the scale beside the stick.

“Six foot, two inches. A bit small, but nothing to be  _ too _ worried about. Now, the scale, please.”

Ahren stood on the scale, watching as Doctor Lend pushed around weights until she got his weight. Nerves churned his stomach, forcing him to clear his throat. “What is a height that I  _ should _ be worried about?”

“For a Moonraker? Anything under six foot. How long have you been this tall? One eighty-seven for weight, concerning, but fixable.” She stood back, letting Ahren step off. “Onwards and onwards! Development now, so, if you may disrobe.”

He blushed like he had been set on fire from the inside out, but he did disrobe, feeling horribly on display as Doctor Lend studied him with a critical eye. This was different, horribly different. His partners weren’t there to make jokes or tease him fondly. Despite everything, it had been nice for nudity to have such little significance.

Tapping the pen to her bottom lip, Doctor Lend hummed quietly, as if this were something she did not expect to see. “Underdeveloped, from what I can see, though I’ll be able to confirm that when I see your Draconic form. It’s the lack of muscle that alarms me, I’ll be honest.”

Ahren kept his eyes on the floor. It was quite clear that he was not the model of what a dragon should look like, all scrawny and short and weak compared to the strong creature he was meant to be. He was an embarrassment to his kind, and no one should have to have the horror of looking upon him. Of course this doctor should be disappointed and concerned, Ahren was completely and utterly upsetting to look at. When Marsh attended some proper medical classes, they would see that too, he just knew it.

“My apologies.” His voice cracked again, that traitorous thing.

“Oh, don’t be!” Shaking her head, Doctor Lend’s expression was genuine. “This is easy to fix. I’ll check your Draconic form and see what kind of exercise routine would be best. Nothing a little bit of time can’t solve. Are you eating properly?”

Slow blinks as he nodded. “Yes, Doctor, I am.”

“Perfect. I think you’ll be just fine, truly, especially with how you’re developing a proper humanoid form.”

That was… where relief should have made its home in his stomach, Ahren only found anxiety. “What am I going to look like?”

The shrug the doctor gave was far from calming. “Typically, a dragon’s eyes will remain the same, and there will be patches of scales on your cheeks, but your experiences with humanoids also influence your final appearance. Short answer? No one knows. Long answer? Something similar to yourself and the people you’re close with. That is the reason why a lot of dragons look like their parents in their humanoid forms.”

“I see.” Ahren was going to throw up.

What if he looked like his mother? That was the last thing he wanted, to have to see that face staring back at him every time he looked in the mirror. Hopefully, he would end up with something blessedly similar to his companions, something actually pleasant to look at. It was a long shot, yes, but a dragon could hope.

Unaware of the specifics of Ahren’s anxiety, Doctor Lend patted his lower back, as high up as she could reach on him. “Don’t you worry about it, though, it will be unpleasant for a little bit, but then you will be just fine. A good way to get it over with quickly is to either have help with your shed or to visit the sand baths and do it yourself.” Sand baths… sounded very nice. So did help. “You can put your clothes back on, thank you.”

Ahren put himself back into order as she stepped out again, tucking his wings comfortably against his back and straightening fabric. Maybe he could get a living hot pack by the name of Marsh to lie down on him while they read later. That would be nice, that would be very nice indeed, with how he missed them. He rapped on the door, and Doctor Lend returned.

“So,” she said, sitting down in her chair, gesturing for Ahren to sit as well. He did, and she continued, “the prognosis: you’re healthy, Ahren, just underdeveloped. You will go through an accelerated puberty, as you have been doing for the past two or so months, the end result of which being a healthy dragon. I’ll draft up an exercise regimen after examining your Draconic form, so we’ll go outside for that, alright?”

Ahren nodded, hands demurely folded in his lap. “Thank you, Doctor Elizabeth.”

She waved a hand. “Oh, don’t even worry about that. Now, I want you to start eating more, and eating more nutritious food. I, and I’m sure Doctor Mallowmarsh is with me on this, want to see you gain weight, right?”

“Right. I will.” He  _ was _ rather hungry, maybe he could get something from the kitchens?

“And, for one final thing, I would like for you to talk to the royal psychologist, her name is Magris Beauton. She is very good at what she does, and I feel like she would be very helpful to you. I could schedule an appointment with her, if you’d like?” The way Doctor Lend said it made it sound less like a want and more like a strong recommendation.

“I, um, sure. I could try that.” Ahren’s hand immediately started picking at his skin again.

A wide smile graced the doctor’s face. “Alright! If you don’t have any more questions, then I do think we should be heading out.”

Better to get this over with now. “I do have a question.”

“Go right ahead.” Doctor Lend crossed her legs, leaning back in her chair.

“Will I… will my…” The words were hard to get out. “After my shed, will I still be so much of a clear disappointment?”

A look of confusion passed across her eyes. “I’m afraid I don’t know what you mean.”

Ah, so she wanted him to say it. “Well it’s quite obvious that I am a disappointment of a dragon, will that be as visible in my new form?”

“You… aren’t a disappointment. I may have only known you for a brief period, but you have been nothing but polite. I have found no fault in you.” Her words were slow and careful, as if she were trying to defuse a tense situation. “Again, I strongly recommend that you see this psychologist. She does well with these types of things.”

“Yes, Doctor.” It was kind of her to lie to him.

Chewing on the end of her pen, Doctor Lend’s leg bounded. “On a lighter note: your companions, they’re humanoids, right?”

A polite nod. “Yes, they are.”

“And you feel comfortable asking them for help learning how to take care of a humanoid form?”

“As in, bathing and dressing wounds and brushing hair, among other things?” The things he had become so accustomed to.

There was nodding, like she was excited that they were on the same page. “Yes, exactly.”

It wouldn’t be much of a problem to learn to do those on himself, his companions would be more than happy to help. “Yes, Doctor, I can ask.”

“Then you’re all set in that department!” Her smile was strained, as if Ahren had committed some grave error.

“Alright, thank you very much, Doctor Lend. This meeting has been enlightening.” Ahren returned her smile. It likely wouldn’t be too hard to convince Holly and Marsh to help him with the aches and pains of a shed, among other things.

“Oh, it was no problem at all! If you need anything, do let me know, alright? And I’d like to set up an appointment every month or so, just that I could keep an eye on your progress.” She rifled through some papers. “Would something in the evening be better, or do you not know your schedule yet and would rather I go on ahead and have that added wherever fit?”

Ahren was supposed to have a schedule? “It might be best to just add it, I am still in the transition period of beginning life here.”

A calm nod informed him that this was apparently a common occurrence. “Alright, I’ll go and do that. Also, I’ll schedule that appointment with Miss Magris.” Briefly, a flash of concern flitted across his face. “She is very good, really. Don’t even worry yourself about it, alright?”

“Alright. Again, I would just like to thank you, Doctor Elizabeth.” Therapists were good, so Marsh had said.

“Oh, it isn’t a problem at all.” Her voice was so easy, like this was perfectly routine for her. “Now, why don’t we go outside and finish up this exam?”

It… wasn’t too bad. Especially not when Ahren was dragged outside and told to transform. Doctor Lend led the two of them through a series of exercises largely consisting of Ahren’s ability to fly and pull things, along with a secondary physical exam. Though it felt odd to let someone handle him like this, the calm explanations were like a drug. While Marsh just knew what was in their book and what they had experienced in their practice, Doctor Lend had an answer to everything, drawn from study and other patients like him.

An answer, and a new exercise regimen that Ahren was now under obligation to complete. That, he was less excited about. Much less excited.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Aidia gets an unexpected visitor...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "hm i should see if that next chap is ready from ye old editor -- shit it's friday"

Aidia was going to walk into the woods of the palace and never return. Seven days, she had been at the palace, five of those spent in the library, and all she had was list upon list of consorts who had serviced Essren the Burner. Despite poring through an ungodly amount of names, none of the books held her mother’s. Wonderful, this was just wonderful. At least these were dated, the last thing Aidia wanted was to try and assign times and dates to people Essren had called to his chambers. Let it not be said that man was not meticulous.

Another issue quickly reared its head. There weren’t any orcs. That was quite a problem—one couldn’t have a half-orc daughter if one of the parties didn’t have at least a hint of orc blood in them. How many orcs could have been in the palace back then, realistically; it wasn’t as if Essren was a bastion of social consciousness. There  _ had _ to be one with her mother’s name.

Turning page after page of Essren’s conquests, Aidia began to feel sick at this. So many people, passing through the king’s chambers, one after the other. It was… disquieting. Not for the first time, her thoughts centered on her heritage. Legally, Aidia had a claim to the throne, but, realistically, she would have to be among the older of Essren’s children. Well, it wasn’t as if they had all been put together in a registry, what were the chances of someone older than Aidia wanting the throne or working in government, really. Off the top of her head, Aidia couldn’t think of any half-elves, never mind full elves, that looked anything similar to her.

Slowly, a pattern started to peek out of the woodwork at her. There were professions listed next to some of these names. That was good, her mother had spoken about her tasks at the palace, and Aidia could wager a guess that a ‘Former Huntsman and Beastmaster’ was something similar to what her mother had been, especially at that point of time. What was promising, though, was that the initials listed matched her mother’s.

Good. This was very good. There were only three Beastmasters on staff, that was tradition. Only three people to look through, potentially, and Aidia couldn’t think of another palace profession that could involve wrangling a lady-dragon that Essren had been set on keeping. Her mother had never been particularly keen on speaking of the specifics of that.

As Aidia leafed through the personnel list she had checked out yesterday, it almost felt like she was looking for a needle in a haystack. True, this wouldn’t be the smoking gun, but confirming that Aidia’s mother was employed at the palace would be a step in the right direction to proving Aidia’s heritage. Better to have an airtight case than have holes poked in it. Sure enough, the Beastmasters were listed. They were just names and accolades, but that would be enough to start on.

There it was, Daibrou, S. Even this little crumb was enough to make Aidia’s head spin with glee. Perfect. This was perfect. Her mother had access to Essren, so Aidia could start looking through his meetings with Beastmasters. One of them  _ had _ to line up with her conception, surely, it did.

Without any input from her, Aidia’s jaw stretched in a yawn. Almost as an afterthought, she noticed that it was late in the night—nearly midnight, the rest of the library long-since overtaken by nocturnal people. Odd species dotted the desks, here and there. There was a Dracoling with her—his—their—Dracoling’s genders were very hard to determine—snout in their book, reading in a language Aidia didn’t recognize. At another table sat a fae woman, one of the shorter varieties with hair that glowed like fire, walking across the pages of her book as she read.

These were not the folks Aidia was accustomed to, and they would likely prefer that she start heading back to her room. People liked familiar faces, and who was Aidia to deprive them of that? Either way, if she wanted to have enough energy to continue this tomorrow, she had better start packing up her things. Placing the checked-out books into her pack, Aidia quickly cleaned up the spatter of notes and papers spread out across the table she had been occupying.

The halls were empty as she stepped out, waving her farewells to the librarians manning the front desk. Convincing them that she was simply intensely interested in Essren’s personal life had its advantages. They had been more than happy to provide her documents on his personal life, if it meant that Aidia would catalogue it as she read. There was more than a bit of a backlog, so Aidia would take initiative on that project, reading for hours upon hours without much in the way of supervision. The only stipulation was that the documents needed to be kept in the library. She could work with that.

Lamps were filled with the ‘nighttime’ glowing crystals, casting the hallway in a soft, amber light. Here and there, servants and attendants made their way to where they were needed, passing with a polite nod to the half-orc woman. A pair of guards made their rounds, calm and serene, greeting a nighttime wanderer fondly as they passed.

It was another fae, Aidia felt the need to point that out. There was no shortage of them at the palace, not with the advent of the Refugee Court, a second home for the displaced fae on Idran. Scholars had pointed out how fascinating it was that fae of all sorts of types and cultures found themselves coexisting peacefully, the Subterraneans—like that which Aidia saw before her, hair glittering like amethysts and skin looking as if it had been caked in gem dust—and Topsiders abandoning their generations-long feud.

As people passed her by, Aidia found her room with some difficulty. The winding corridors of the palatial complex were confusing at first, a labyrinth of nonsense piled atop itself until there was nothing inside but corridors and shortcuts and detours. The older sections were especially bad, later additions doing nothing to rectify the convoluted architecture. It was almost like the palace was alive, with a vested interest in turning people around as much as possible.

Opening the door to her chambers, Aidia was greeted with the sight of her new rooms. The window was closed tight, the dark blue curtains drawn against the oncoming chill. There were embers in the furnace, warming the room against the approaching winter. It was nice, though Aidia would never admit she liked the lavish bed, the opulent bathroom, stocked with anything she might need.

Her bed was still unmade, just as she had left it. It was… lonely. There was no one to mess up her clothes laid out on the dresser, no one to repopulate the now-empty trash bin. Perhaps it was just the silence speaking, but Aidia found herself missing the chaos of living with three other people, the evidence of exploits plain to see in the paths they left in the room. With just herself to make a mess, it was as if she were living with her mother again.

With a shake of her head, she set her pack down and hung it on the corner of her chair. No use thinking about all that was said and done. As she pulled off her boots, setting them against the wall neatly, Aidia couldn’t help but feel tired. It had been a long day of research. Crossing into the bathroom, she cleaned herself up, washing her hands and splashing some water onto her face. The towels had been cleaned, a new round of white, fluffy fabric, far more than she could ever use, piled high on top of the towel rack.

What was the harm in a bath tonight? It still wasn’t too late for that, not if Aidia was quick. With the temptation of warm, fragrant water clear in her mind, Aidia picked out some bedclothes, a loose white shift that cropped to just above her stomach and grey shorts, setting them down beside the towels. Running herself a hot bath, Aidia utilized what little toiletries she actually felt comfortable with. Some smelled like sage and lavender, and Aidia was just going to have to live with that, wasn’t she.

Oh, there was no harm in lounging a little. Aidia let herself relax in the bath, the warm water leaching the chill from her bones. This was nice, being able to take some time for herself. It had been far too long, far too long indeed. Months of travel meant that her body had formed into a strong, toned version of itself, entirely unfit for her Elven heritage. It was nothing a more sedentary lifestyle wouldn’t fix—better to have some marginal points of beauty than be so clearly other.

Wrapping a towel around herself, Aidia couldn’t help but smile at how soft it was as she brushed her teeth. It was odd seeing her face in the mirror after spending so much time in inn bathrooms. Instead of a reflection in pockmarked obsidian, Aidia found herself looking at a half-orc woman, perfectly rendered in clear glass, colors and all.

There were faint freckles dotting the bridge of her nose, skin a darker green from being out in the sun for so long. If she was being honest, Aidia hadn’t known she had freckles to begin with. Her eyes were a pale grey, the mark of her heritage. Had she been an elf, her looks would have been very sought after indeed, light hair and cool eyes the hallmark of Elven beauty. The issue of her tusks, though, was not one to be ignored. Ivory nubs had grown back enough to poke out from her bottom lip, just enough to be seen.

With a frown, Aidia rinsed her mouth out and turned away from the glass. The towel was abandoned in favor of her bedclothes, soft things pulled on for bed. A brush was run through her hair, brisk, harsh motions meant to distract from thoughts Aidia was happier not thinking, and the bathroom was left slightly wetter than when she had entered.

As she got her things together for bed, pulling out her journal and setting her clothes out for tomorrow while she put today’s dirty vestments in the laundry hamper, there was a knock on the door. Who on the Creator's good green world could that even  _ be _ , at this time? The journal was placed on the desk gingerly and the room given a quick once over to make sure nothing was in disarray—it wouldn’t do to portray herself as a slob. Sighing, Aidia opened the door.

The princess was on the other side, wearing a loose-fitting, partially unbuttoned, light blue chemise and flared black pants, hair tied up in a loose braid. That certainly made Aidia’s heart skip a beat. Trying to keep the anxiety off of her face, the half-orc couldn’t help but run it through her mind—what had she done that would warrant the princess being sent to her chambers? Had the Elven Queen realized the political dangers Aidia posed? Was she being kicked out of the palace? Why was she just standing here, staring dumbly at Princess Adira like she had no idea who she was?

“Hi, can we talk?” The princess’s voice was nothing like it should have been, rough, assertive, confident, and it only made Aidia’s heart race faster.

It was interesting, when one really thought about it. Princess Adira didn’t speak frequently when with her parents, letting her mother dominate the conversation. She had a pretty voice, Aidia found herself thinking. Very pretty. The rest of her was pretty, too, in the way that Humanish people were. Features that would have seemed discordant blended together beautifully, from the princess’s black canines to her violet eyes. Staring. Aidia should stop staring.

“As you wish, Your Highness. Please, come in.” Tone welcoming, Aidia let her into the room, offering the chair in the corner, tucked into the low coffee table.

Adira nodded, face set in a neutral expression as she strode in. It seemed like the two of them were going to be standing. “Is everything alright, Miss Aidia?”

“I’m sorry?” That was… not expected.

“Am I not allowed to be concerned?” Those clever, transfixing eyes met her own grey. “I heard that you’ve been spending all of your time in the library, I worry that you might be lonely.”

What did Princess Adira care about that? “That is very kind of you, Your Highness, though I promise you: I’m quite alright.”

An incorrect answer, it seemed. The princess’s face set into something akin to determination. “Please, call me Adira. I was just wondering if you might like to do something. I know it can be quite boring in the palace, and I would like to offer an olive branch.”

“Oh?” Stalling for time, Aidia’s mind raced to deconstruct as much as she could. Olive branch: Princess Adira knew that Aidia was at odds with her family. Adira: she wanted to lower Aidia’s guard. “I would love to.” Why did she say that.

A smile graced the Humanish woman’s face, and that alone could have ended the world for Aidia. She was supposed to hate her, both of them were. What was Princess Adira doing, pretending to enjoy Aidia’s company like this? Surely, this was unseemly, this was something that the two of them shouldn’t have been doing. It would be gossip for years, the princess spending time in the presence of a half-orc.

“Great, what do you like to do?” With a quick hand motion, Princess Adira invited Aidia to sit down.

What did Aidia like doing. “Reading is always nice.”

Adira laughed, and Aidia felt something in her heart twist. She wanted to hear that harsh bark of a laugh again, to be the one to cause it, to laugh with her. Creator, who was she, Ahren with his plethora of romance novels? Above all else, Aidia was  _ not _ in love with the princess. She could be sure of that.

“I’d assume such.” There was a blue spot on Adira’s tongue, like she was a northern dog breed. “I could take you around if you’d like, I’m sure you have so many stories from your travels.”

Ah, so she was a lorehound. “Nothing too exciting, I’m afraid.”

Waving a hand, the princess just smiled. “Oh, anything is more than welcome, it isn’t as if anything happens around here aside from courtly drama and inheritance posturing.”

The irreverence with which she said that reminded Aidia of how the princess was not the proclaimed dauphin. It was unusual, the current dauphin situation. Malaidor had elected to use the traditional method of selection, not by birthright as Essren had, but by capacity. The three noble dynasties had been thrown into disarray, all doing their best to present a suitable heir for her to name. Fifteen years later, there was still no one next in line for the throne. The longer this went on, the more dangerous.

“If I may ask,” Aidia found herself saying, “what do you think of the current dauphin situation.”

Adira’s smile fell. Oh, Aidia was an idiot. Why had she asked that? For what purpose?

“People ascribe too much weight to this decision. There’s only one person from her own dynasty she can pick, and that’s me.”

The Oridion dynasty, the one currently on the throne, was going to die out soon. Everyone knew that. Three people was not enough to keep it afloat forever. Essren’s insistence on culling those who opposed him had not been a boon for a dynasty known for its non-traditional methods and “creative” solutions.

Continuing, the princess merely shrugged her shoulders. “The Kadrios dynasty has a promising candidate, but everyone’s going to be in an uproar if she picks from Essren’s dynasty. The Seli’in dynasty has too many candidates and none that are capable. There’s a scholar circle that follows this, though I’ve never been partial to them.”

A scholar circle that Aidia was going to be reading up on. “I see, my apologies for bringing it up.”

“Oh, it’s alright. I just don’t find it much fun to talk about, considering this has been my day in, day out for quite a long time.” Brightening, as if leaving this topic of conversation, the princess put a smile back on her face, as if just realizing where she was. “You must be exhausted, though, I don’t mean to keep you up.”

“You aren’t—” Aidia blinked at how eager she sounded. “Truly, I don’t mind.”

The princess’s tone was distracted. “Really, you likely have a long day tomorrow, I would hate to be a burden.”

Oh. This was likely just a polite way of excusing herself. Clearly, Adira had better things to do than stick around here, chattering away about topics she didn’t care about with a half-orc woman. It was rude of Aidia to keep her trapped in this conversation, quite rude indeed. Adira must have thought her so uncultured, such a cruel person to act without regard to how this would affect her.

“It is not a problem, but do feel free to leave, if you’d like.” Smiling politely, Aidia clasped her hands on the table, trying to ignore how much her chest ached. “I do hope that you have a good night.”

The princess rose, taking Aidia’s hands in hers. “As do I. Good night, Miss Aidia, and good dreams. I will see you when I see you.”

As if in a dream, Aidia watched as the princess smiled at her, almost fondly, violet eyes tracing over Aidia’s face like she was trying to memorize it. It made the half-orc’s heart race, being so finely scrutinized like this. Her hands were warm. That was the only thought Aidia could think, replaying itself over and over in her mind—Princess Adira’s hands were very warm, and currently in hers. More than anything, that simply had to mark this as a dream.

Calmly, the two of them said their farewells, and the princess left. The echoes of her perfume, jasmine and mint, still hung on the air, drifting around cloyingly. Something in Aidia’s mind recorded the scent like it was the most important thing she had ever smelled, something worthy of memorization. Remnants of her warmth clung to Aidia’s skin like a blanket, her body refusing to let it dissipate into the air. Oh. Oh no.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Time to help a local dragon with his shed, doctor's orders.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> local sick dragon becomes slightly less sick

Even in his Draconic form, Ahren was adorable. Really, how could Marsh help it? The way he moved, tail curling up when he saw his friends as he walked on the tips of his toes like he was scared to step on anything, was incredibly cute. When Ahren butted his scaled head against their chest, a deep trill rumbling in his throat, what else was Marsh to do but reciprocate, scratching the bases of his horns and soft ears. The dragon’s tail wagging behind him, despite how hard Ahren was trying to act dignified, was reward enough.

This was going to be a nice afternoon. The doctor he had been seeing, Elizabeth Lend, knew what she was doing. It was good for him to get everything addressed, Marsh was far from an expert on dragons, limited to what they could scrounge up from libraries and their own books. Not enough dragons needed medical treatment outside of the Draconic Autonomous Region to warrant that information being widespread.

Elizabeth had recommended Ahren accelerate his shed, in order to help him settle into a properly human form more quickly. The explanation she had given Marsh was quite good: Ahren’s arcane sense had been blocked by medication and now, as that medication wore off, he was growing into a human form. He was going to need some time to adjust, but, after this shed, his form should stabilize without much issue. The real question, though, was what he was going to look like.

The four of them had gathered into a secluded clearing in the royal woods, Ahren already in his Draconic form. There had been excited conversation on the way, Aida asking so many questions that were not particularly easy for Marsh to answer. What they would kill for a book specifically on dragon arcana.

Watching their partners interact, Marsh couldn’t help but grin as Hollyhock squished Ahren’s cheeks, picking at some of the bits of loose skin. The half-elf found himself unable to resist blowing a raspberry onto Ahren’s forehead, smile as wide as the moon. Leaning against the dragon’s flank, Aidia picked off some loose flecks of scales, careful around the musculature Ahren’s wings. There were bits and bobs hanging off of him, even worse at the joints. The poor thing needed some help, and the three of them were there to assist.

“Ahren,” Aidia’s voice was calm and clear as she spoke, one of the pumice stone-like brushes they had all been afforded held firm in her hand, “lie down, please, so we can get started.”

With a cheerful groan, Ahren obliged her, settling on his stomach with his paws neatly tucked up under him. While his friends started on his scales, he extended a foreleg, clumsily licking it with unpracticed motions. It hurt Marsh’s heart to think about how odd this was to Ahren, to even be in his Draconic form. From what they had learned, almost all dragons self-cleaned, but here Ahren was, unfamiliar with even the basics of it, trying to find some repressed instinct to help him.

Maybe that was why he was so fond of affection, more than happy to be petted and stroked. It was classic touch starvation. The poor thing had never had enough physical contact, though that was changing quickly enough. Even Aidia was more open with her touch now, content to sprawl out on the dragon in his humanoid form or press him close to her chest as she slept. For all she complained about his snoring, there she still was, arms strong around him as Hollyhock drooled onto his chest. When with his companions, Ahren had proved to be quite the heavy sleeper.

Hopping up onto Ahren’s back without much trouble, Marsh got to work on the man’s wings as Hollyhock carefully brushed scales away from that adorable green face. The half-elf was doing his very best to brush around eyes and noses and other such sensitive structures, pressing little pecks here and there while Ahren clicked and chirped under his touch, making quiet, pleased noises.

“Did you know,” Marsh started, manipulating fragile wings to get all the old skin off with gentle motions, “that most Moonraker dragons get married around one thousand? I was reading about shedding cycles and, apparently, most Moonrakers have their spouse help with their shed, but a lot of teenage dragons use these things called grind brushes.”

Instead of tilting his head, Ahren just made a curious sound. “That hasn’t been my experience. My father was in his fourth century when he was wed to my mother.”

That didn’t sound right. That didn’t sound right at all. Multiple sources had listed the age of marital consent for dragons as around seven hundred—the exact age varied with subspecies. It was common for dragons in their hundreds to have relations with other dragons in their hundreds, Marsh had read, but there were very little pregnancies and marriages at that time. They were akin to other species’ teenage years: most were not expected to leave their clan’s territory until their eight hundreds, when they were considered “grown”. For a person to be married so young was very odd.

A frown graced Aidia’s face as she brushed along his flank. “That seems a bit young, doesn’t it? Would you feel ready to be wed in a century, Ahren?”

Ahren simply shrugged as he cleaned his paws, doing his best not to dislodge anyone. “I would say ‘no’, but I’m not a typical dragon.”

“How old was your mother?” Holly’s voice was easy, more curious than concerned as he moved down to work on Ahren’s neck. Deft fingers picked off stray specks of skin as he rubbed soothing circles into the strong muscle there.

“In her ninth century, if I remember correctly.” The dragon tilted his head, eyes closing as he relaxed into his partner’s touch. “She never spoke to me much, though.”

The horrified silence that followed went entirely over his head. Holly’s face became more a mask than anything, his attention being wholly directed into cleaning his partner and not plotting out the murder of Ahren’s mother. Something in his eyes made a chill run down Marsh’s spine. It was a far cry from the usual cheery, chatty man they knew so well, replaced by someone with ice growing in his veins.

Aidia, too, let her expression grow into something darker. The more any of them learned about Ahren’s mother, the less they liked the woman. Anyone who had decided that a child was fair game to torment was not a person well-liked by most. Though they had suggested it, Ahren was unwilling to ask the royal family for haven, perfectly happy to go right back to his family when his duties as a diplomat were finished.

Shifting to work on Ahren’s other wing, Marsh voiced their thoughts without much sugar coating. People never wanted to hear artificial sweetness. “That’s pretty fucked up, I’m just going to say. How does this feel, by the way? Any better?”

With a rumble, Ahren twitched his tail as Holly started to work on his shoulders. “Much, thank you. Sheds are rather itchy, and I greatly appreciate all of the help.”

“How do you normally deal with them?” Aidia sounded from Ahren’s rear, pinning down the tip of his tail as much she could without either of them getting hurt. “Ahren, please hold still, I would _very_ much not like to be smacked and you can’t exactly see where I am.”

The man’s cheeks darkened in a deep emerald blush as he ducked his head, trying not to disturb Holly as he started lapping at his other foreleg. “My apologies.” The flicking mostly stilled. “I would wait for my shed to be over, scratching and picking now and then to help accelerate it along. I was unaware there were products to assist this.”

“Sounds pretty miserable.” A quick scrabble got Holly onto Ahren’s back, working on the scales between the dragon’s shoulder blades, just out of Marsh’s reach.

“It was, and I am thankful to you all for your assistance.” Ahren trilled pleasantly when Marsh ran the brush over the base of his wing, no doubt a difficult spot to reach on his own. It would have taken a considerable deal of flexibility to twist around to clean there, even in his humanoid form.

As they moved down to the skin covering Ahren’s spine, the dragon purred, drawing a round of chuckles out of them all.

Marsh’s tone was light. “So, Doc Liz wanted you to start exercising, right? We were talking, me and her, and she mentioned that she was worried about how skinny you are.”

“Yes, she did.” Ahren whined as Holly slid down to help Aidia on the dragon’s other flank. “I have to practice flying for an _hour_ and either run or walk for _two_ hours, it’s so much!”

“Oh, it isn’t that bad.” A pat to Ahren’s side punctuated Aidia’s vaguely soothing remark.

There was no joy in their dragon’s voice, just good-natured misery. “That’s what you think, it’s so boring, to have to exercise all on my own.”

“I could do it with you.” She hummed, bumping Holly with her hip as she finished up. “I wouldn’t mind—it sounds like fun, if I’m being honest. Fun, and a good way to become familiar with the palace grounds.”

Perking up, Ahren’s body did its best to both stay still and portray his excitement. “Really? You’d do that with me?”

With a laugh, Aidia petted his side. “Yes, I would. We could gossip about courtly drama or whatever you dragons do here. It wouldn’t be entirely terrible.”

Holly chuckled at that. “Please don’t drag me out on a run—Marsh get down when you’re ready so Ahren can roll over.” Pressing a kiss to Ahren’s shoulder, Holly scratched behind the dragon’s ears, drawing a louder purr out of the man.

Marsh picked their way down from Ahren’s back with a grin, putting space in between them so he had room to roll over. “Why? You’d _love_ going out for a walk, Holly.”

As he shifted onto his back, paws in the air, Ahren made a sound not unlike chuckling. They were almost done, there were just the scales on his stomach to do, and, with the three of them, it wouldn’t take too long. There were little scraps of loose skin here and there, dotting the spring green of his stomach. Ahren was adorable like this, upside down in the grass like a dog.

It was funny, looking at him this way. Over the course of their journey, he had grown a bit. Nothing too spectacular, just an inch here or there, but it translated into half a foot when in his Draconic form. If Marsh was being honest, though, the growth was more noticeable when Ahren was humanoid, those features more familiar and regular to them. The man had never been partial to spending much time in his Draconic form, finding it cumbersome and clumsy. Sure, he wasn’t the most agile thing, but it wasn’t anything a little practice couldn’t solve.

Certainly, it didn’t stop them from getting to work, clambering onto soft scales to get the center of his tummy while Holly and Aidia did his sides. Marsh got into a rhythm as Ahren’s breath rose and fell, Aidia and Holly debating various types of settlements they had read about in the royal library. Despite not knowing what they were talking about in the slightest, it was still nice to listen to Aidia and Holly get excited about something. The two of them were still having an argument about the language family of Ur-Dochas, but it was very fun to listen to, especially when alcohol got involved.

“Did you know,” Marsh’s voice was quiet, just for Ahren, “that juvenile and teenage dragons have a paler belly?”

Wide eyes blinked at him. “I was not aware, no.”

“Yeah, Moonrakers tend to be mostly monochrome after their eight hundreds. Stronghold dragons are never monochrome, their bellies darken. I think it’s called a tarnish?” They hummed as they brushed aside dead skin, giving them a cleaner workspace.

Stronghold dragons were odd, compared to Ahren. Yes, they were a different species inhabiting a different mountain range, but they were still fundamentally dragons. From what Marsh had read, they could still interbreed and had much of the same intrinsic body language, it was just the body structure and coloration that differed. There might have been more Stronghold dragons this far east, with the Stronghold Heights starting a few hundred miles to the north.

“Okay, that looks to be most of it.” Coming back to the present, Marsh pinched Ahren’s cheeks lightly, resisting the urge to laugh as the dragon stuck the tip of his tongue out of his mouth. “I’ll get off you and you can switch back.”

A nervous glance to the sky revealed nothing flying overhead. Really, Marsh didn’t get why Ahren was so worried, the four of them had found a nice meadow in the royal woods, perfectly secluded so that no one would see three humanoids cleaning a dragon. No one was going to stumble in on them and think anything of it, especially when it was the last warm day for a long time.

At least Ahren was getting better at nudity nowadays, content to be undressed around his companions. It was a far cry from what he had been when they first met, too shy to even _consider_ looking at his companions when they took off a jacket. A few months of travel and transformations had changed that, giving the poor thing enough confidence to shift forms in front of them without fear of repercussions. Really, at what point was he going to realize that he was cute?

As Marsh slid off of their dragon and backed up, Ahren let himself transform back into his humanoid form. It was always an odd sight to see, despite how familiar it had quickly become. His body lit up in white light, less glowing and more… well… becoming, would be the right word. The light didn’t radiate out, just sticking close to Ahren’s form like a second skin. It clung to him as his form shifted, the taste of magic rich on Marsh’s tongue. The first few times he’d done this, Marsh had had a headache for days afterward, body rejecting the taste. They were better about it now.

Before them, there was the glowing silhouette of a man sitting down, legs bent at the knees and arms supporting his weight as he leaned back onto them. As the light faded, Marsh prepared themselves for anything, Elizabeth had been abundantly clear that Ahren’s humanoid form was going to change greatly after this shed, they had all been informed of that.

Despite everything, it was still shocking to see what Ahren now looked like. His skin—not scales—was tan, somewhere along the vast continuum between Holly and Marsh. It was closer to a light fawn than anything else, not kissed by freckles or birthmarks. No belly button, that was the first little detail Marsh noticed, that Ahren still didn’t have a belly button. Nipples, yes, sparse body hair, yes, but no belly button. Interesting. Very interesting. Maybe it was just a dragon thing.

His hair was a sandy blond, darker than Aidia’s but not dark enough to warrant a rebranding to brown. It was long enough to fall into his eyes somewhat, partially obscuring Ahren’s bright green irises. Twin patches of emerald scales graced his cheeks like freckles, reflecting sunlight as Ahren’s expression twisted into something akin to confusion, trying to get used to a new bone structure as quickly as he could. Marsh had read that young dragons, before puberty, often switched between random humanoid forms, not settling down into their adult form until after puberty.

As Ahren shifted position, Marsh had to note that he had kept the genitalia from his more Draconic form, a slit and interior sheath hiding his dick. It was… interesting. Not many books had spoken about dragon genitals, obviously, so it looked like Marsh had some more reading in store. At least that wouldn’t be too much of an adjustment for anyone.

Wrinkling his nose, Ahren ran a finger over the inside of his mouth, trying to get a feel for the new teeth. Right, that was a novelty too, a human arrangement instead of fangs and grinding molars. A snort from Holly was their only warning before he burst into laughter, chuckling at the ridiculousness of it all, a fully naked grown man figuring out how many teeth he had and how to use them. Most of the mouth structure should have stayed the same, or at least, the same enough to speak without too much trouble. Now there was just the issue of learning how to use it properly.

“There’s too many in here.” Ahren’s voice was muffled from his fingers in his mouth and slurred from his lack of fine motor control.

“Too many teeth?” A smile found its way onto Marsh’s face. They had an idea of what they could do with him, later. “There shouldn’t be but let me see.”

Ahren spread his legs for them, to sit and examine him properly, removing his hand and opening his mouth wide as Marsh settled themselves firmly in his personal space. Without looking, they could tell Aidia was rolling her eyes in a joke at how intimate the position looked, Marsh holding Ahren’s chin steady with firm fingers as they took a look, other hand firm on the back of the dragon’s head.

A faint flush graced Ahren’s cheeks as he watched his partner, keeping obediently still for them as they counted the appropriate amount of teeth. So what if they lingered just a bit longer than was strictly necessary, letting their thumb stroke the strong muscles of Ahren’s neck, skin perfectly soft and smooth. Tapping on the underside of his jaw to get him to close his mouth, Marsh pressed a chaste kiss to Ahren’s lips.

“All the teeth that are meant to be there are there, and not a tooth more.” They hummed, brushing hair out of his face as the dragon blinked pretty, round eyes up at them.

Screwing his face up, Ahren tried to talk as clearly as he could with a new mouth. “How do you speak with them?”

“It’s all practice.” Holly walked a circle around Ahren, ruffling his hair as he took him in. “And aren’t _you_ handsome. Fitting that a pretty dragon’s human form be so handsome.”

That light flush burned into a full-blown blush as Ahren ducked his head, trying to hide from Holly’s compliments. A hearty chuckle from Aidia and a kiss on the cheek from Marsh eased him enough into meeting their eyes, shoulders drawn up in shyness. Oh, he was such a cute thing. Marsh couldn’t wait to eat him right up. More than anything, they wanted to show him how to kiss properly. That is, if they could get to him before Holly did.

“Put on some clothes, Ahren, we can show you how to eat like you’re a part of high-class society after this.” There was a laugh in Aidia’s voice as she tossed Ahren’s clothes to him, the dragon perking up at the mention of food like they hadn’t fed him for ages. He was so hungry these days.

Getting off of him, Marsh set Ahren free to move about. As he stood, Ahren’s motions were clumsy and jittery, his musculature and bones slightly different from what he had been so used to. Oh, it was adorable, the way Ahren struggled to dress himself as he figured out how to move his limbs, concentrating so hard as he buttoned up his shirt and tugged on his pants. He was so disheveled, but so proud of himself as he wobbled on new legs. Marsh was going to remember that grin for a long time to come.


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Malaidor should just have a little faith!

For some reason, Malaidor had more faith in the four of them than Marsh did. It was almost comical, the amount of professionalism and capability she attributed to them, knowing full well that they were all just out of their teenage years. Maybe it was because her own daughter was their age, or that elves had been expected to age quickly until recently, but it was pretty funny. Suffice to say, the Queen was an idealist. That much was clear.

When Hollyhock mentioned the idea of him being enrolled in the Academy of Magics, Malaidor had jumped to finance him, offering up admission into a royal scholarship set aside for people from the Northwest Territories. It was incredible that such a scholarship even existed—none of them were strangers to her predecessor’s view on people from the Territories, never mind half-elves from the Territories.

Almost as an afterthought, Marsh remembered how the researchers and doctors they were in communication with had noted that there was an increase in students from the Northwest. Apparently, the new students had had their troubles adjusting to the new culture, especially the school system. Holly’s home was not known for its centralized education, that was clear enough.

After querying the rest of them, Marsh had been promised a meeting with the dean of the Royal Academy of Physicians to discuss an accelerated degree. Queen Malaidor had been horrified to learn that they didn’t have a medical license, despite practicing for over twenty years. Everything they needed to, Marsh had learned in the field or from their father—no use going to a giant city to sit in classes when they could just learn from the man who raised them, cheaper too. At least they’d get the chance to learn more about new research and medical devices, they weren’t going to get much use out of it where they lived, but it would be good to know what was available in larger population centers.

For Aidia, accommodations for an internship had been mulled over, even if Marsh could hear the lies in her answer. Well, not lies outright. Lies by omission. She was not nearly as slick at lying as she thought she was, but Marsh wasn’t going to say anything. That she was interested in politics was clear enough, especially at how she lit up at the suggestion of an apprenticeship. Marsh knew the knowing tone in Malaidor’s voice well enough, clearly the Queen had a plan she was looking forward to.

It was a bit annoying, how freely Aidia lied to the royal family. They’d given the four of them nothing but kindness, offering board and education without asking for anything in return. This was something valuable, something that it would do Aidia good to remember: tuition for a medical college was incredibly expensive and the admissions competitive, Marsh’s father had made that abundantly clear when he taught them their craft. Marsh didn’t want to be the one to have a conversation with Aidia about politeness.

There wasn’t much of a problem with Ahren’s schedule, luckily. Most of his attention had already been filled up with the Council of Dragons. Apparently, it’d been formed relatively recently in order to promote unity amongst dragons from the different mountain ranges, but it was far from Marsh’s expertise or interest. There was some chatter about making it a more permanent fixture in the court, but that was to be put to a vote by the nobles, something Marsh would no doubt be hearing about in the next few weeks.

Surprisingly, Ahren’s duties took up relatively little time. There were daily meetings during the week, with a rest on the weekend. Apart from that, though, there wasn’t much else that he was  _ required _ to do. The Queen had mentioned how he was welcome to meet with the other diplomats out of meetings, but the look of utter terror on Ahren’s face let everyone know what his plans were.

Interestingly enough, Malaidor had also promised to arrange for a tutor for Holly, Aidia and Marsh. Higherspeak was the base language of the court and the Academies, unfortunately, so they would all be expected to have some measure of fluency with it. There wasn’t much excitement about that, especially not from Hollyhock. The man was not partial to learning new languages, especially ones he was probably never going to use.

Needless to say, the Queen had proven true to her word. Hollyhock and Marsh struggled through their lessons with their tutor for two weeks and achieved something that bordered on a vague comprehension, enough to understand when they were spoken to and respond with basic sentences. It was far from ideal, but it would work out fine enough. Most classes were taught in Trade to level the playing field for other non-local students, so it was just the high-level classes and official paperwork that were in Higherspeak. Worse came to worst, they had Ahren and Aidia, who had already known the damned language to begin with.

The tutor was… fine. Marsh wasn’t too keen on him, but he was trying. The man was clearly a holdover from Essren’s time, back when there were proper Elven children running through the halls of the palace, ready to sit for their grammar lessons. That he was charged with wrangling a Humanish who didn’t really want to be there, a half-orc who was ready to start her apprenticeship already, and a half-elf with a short attention span was not his problem.

His methods had started out strict and demanding, though, when Holly started struggling to keep up, it became abundantly clear that they weren’t working. That wasn’t to say Holly wasn’t trying—he was, he was doing the very best he could and then some. It was the language and the class structure, it didn’t work in his head. There were a few long nights, Hollyhock trying to drill verb endings and conjugations into his head while Marsh did their absolute best to convince him to sleep. The poor thing was going to work himself to death to keep up with the class.

A twinge of guilt bubbled up in Marsh’s guts. They’d had an unfair advantage to begin with: many medical texts were already in Higherspeak, so they’d picked up enough to read those. It wasn’t nearly enough to speak with someone conversationally or to understand the language spoken, but it was just a matter of matching sounds to letters and remembering manners for Marsh.

Aidia had been the tutor’s favorite, though, smiling pleasantly and nodding along with his lessons, replying in grammatically perfect sentences while Hollyhock tried to memorize vocabulary and grammar vastly different from either of his native languages. Ilvoni and Higherspeak were far from similar, it was clear in the way Holly formed new sounds, falling back into familiar dialectical patterns. It made Marsh’s heart hurt to see him get more and more aggravated as time went on—he really was trying his best.

The tutor had shifted from lambasting to being as supportive as possible when he’d realized the problem a week in. That first week had been… not ideal for any of them, especially not for Holly. It would be a good idea to bring up neurodivergency with the tutor, even when the three of them left, he would still meet people who were wired like Holly and Marsh later on and would have to know how to deal with them.

Three days before the four of them were scheduled to begin their new tasks, they had been given a summons to check in with the royal family, to break bread with Malaidor, Galengar, and Adira. It was funny, how, every time they ate with the royals, Aidia watched everyone like a hawk while Hollyhock spoke freely about anything and everything, Ahren doing his best to not have a panic attack at any given moment. Marsh usually kept their mouth shut, there was nothing they needed to say.

As Malaidor set down her teacup after taking a sip of light orange tea. “How did you three find Proctor Jamis?” Her voice was easy. “His report shows good progress, if any of you would like to continue your lessons.”

There wasn’t any need for that. They knew enough Higherspeak for medical papers, and if they were actually talking to someone in it, something had gone very wrong. “He was fine, I thought some of his methods were helpful, but I have experience with it in a medical context.”

Aidia gave them a look at that. Huh, so she hadn’t been paying enough attention. Well, she  _ had _ been rusty. They couldn’t fault her for that, the only reason Holly knew was because he’d come to Marsh asking to study with them and they’d helped him with the grammar. As good as Aidia was at the language, she was far from an effective teacher.

“I thought he was good, we started with our differences, but we were able to have a conversation and make progress.” It was almost shocking how professional Hollyhock sounded, voice clear and concise. “If it isn’t a problem, I would like to keep studying with him. Higherspeak’ll be important soon enough for me.”

Well. Marsh hadn’t been expecting that. From what they had gathered, Hollyhock  _ hated _ Higherspeak and Jamis’s teaching style. Sure, they’d had a few conversations after class, but Marsh was under the impression that nothing had come out of those. The most that’d happened was Jamis altering his teaching style somewhat for Hollyhock and giving him some extra help. That Holly thought he was a good enough tutor to continue like that… it was odd.

“Do you think it’s right for you?” There was palatable confusion in Ahren’s voice.

It made sense for him to be put off by this new development, he’d born witness to a couple of fits of late-night crying caused by Higherspeak homework and helped out where he could. Hollyhock had made abundantly clear how much he didn’t get on with the language. He knew enough to get by, and he had three other people that could help him, why suffer?

“I do.” His tone was simple, like it was the most obvious thing in the world. “I’m not going to be around someone who speaks it forever, so I might as well learn. There are other languages in that family, right?” Nods from Aidia and the royal family. “Good, then I’ll have some limited understanding of those too.”

The King shrugged in his seat, leaning back slightly. ‘I hated learning it, if I have to be honest. The sounds are a pain to wrap one’s head around.’

Marsh had to agree. “The tones are… complicated to say the least.” That a word could have entirely different meanings based on a tone was absolute bullshit and gave Marsh headaches. They preferred the silent diacritics of writing.

“I am not a fan of the vocative case.” Adira piped up, giving the four a friendly grin. “The little differences based on status were horribly confusing when I was learning.”

Right, she’d been adopted in. Marsh forgot that sometimes, how the princess had been taken in at the age of… seven? Eight? Somewhere around there. It wasn’t their job to know ages, they just remembered it was a big deal twelve years ago. Having a Humanish person so visibly accepted by the current administration had done wonders to set various non-standard peoples at ease. As long as Adira was still alive, they were relatively safe. The consequences of an impure mixture under Essren hadn’t evaporated with a regime change.

With a polite smile, Ahren did his best to crack a joke. “I wouldn’t expect it to be, Your Highness, most others would be subservient to you.”

“It’s still odd. I like the equalizer tone.” Her face twisted into something akin to concession. “It does nothing for me to hear my status.”

“Better to be remembered for your capability rather than your family, that is very wise of you.” There was something lingering under Aidia’s tone, dancing along the thin edge of hatred and affection. How easily one feeling bled into the other.

Clearing her throat, Malaidor took another sip of tea. “They are indeed. There is no need for station when one is recognized for their skill. And you, Miss Aidia? What did you think of Proctor Jamis?”

“He is certainly an experienced teacher,” Aidia set down her own teacup, managing to make it not clatter on the little plate, “I found him quite helpful. I believe that I will be able to continue with my education on my own, though. I have found that I work best at my own discretion.”

The nod given to her was serene, Malaidor taking no offense. “I see. I will inform him such, then. Sir Hollyhock, I trust that you will be able to come to an agreement with him over when and where to take your lessons, correct?”

“Yes, that’d be great, thank you.”

“Wonderful.” The Queen was genuinely happy that she could help them. “In that case, I have a present for you.”

With smooth, practiced motions, Malaidor withdrew a small, black box, the length of half her forearm, from her long sleeves. They looked so unwieldy, those sleeves, even if they matched the pale-yellow dress she wore. It didn’t look like something she would wear if she could choose, something in Marsh’s mind made that abundantly clear.

As people watched with clear confusion, she spoke.

“This is for you, I do hope it helps you. Proctor Jamis was speaking of your troubles, so this will help tide you over until you feel more comfortable in your fluency.” The Queen’s voice was calm and neutral, though they could hear how hard she tried to put a note of happiness and positivity in it. She was trying, and that was what mattered.

With an ease to be envied, the Queen continued. “I am aware that you will be beginning your education with the Academy of Magics, and felt that, given your progress with Proctor Jamis, you would find this useful. It is an amulet used for translation that has been tuned to Higherspeak. I do hope it will serve you well, as I am aware it is unfair of me to expect fluency so quickly, even with your companions’ progress.” Wincing inwardly, Marsh wasn’t going to tell her about the advantage they had.

Only Marsh saw the relief that flooded Holly’s face as it split into a wide smile. “Thank you so much, this is so sweet of you!”

With a polite nod, the Queen slipped Holly the box over the table, ensuring that it found its way into his hands. Inside, there was a simple circular bronze amulet on a chain, long enough to hang at Holly’s lower chest. On the amulet was a sigil cast into the metal itself, probably magical in nature, of concentric circles filled with carefully made squiggles. Around the perimeter of the amulet was a border of tiny writing in a language that Marsh didn’t recognize. Slipping it over his head, Holly looked unchanged.

“So, did it work?” Nods and smiles told him it had.

There was a slight accent to Holly’s words, vowels flattening slightly, melodically. Maybe that was what he naturally sounded like if he’d let his natural accent bleed through. Marsh hadn’t heard much Ilvoni spoken, but it was supposedly a harshly musical language, chiming vowels contrasted with sharp consonants. People either loved it or hated it. This was pretty, though, the way Holly’s accent wound its way through his words like wind through a tree canopy.

Ahren, on the other hand, was staring at Holly like he’d just grown a second head, the wide, unblinking stare of someone absolutely terrified and horrified. As he chewed on his lip, Marsh could see him shifting in his seat, fingers picking at his skin. He was well and truly upset by this, by an accent he could barely hear.

“Is something wrong?” Half-elf brows drew together as Holly took in his put-off expression. Only Marsh heard the tone of worry in his voice that this, a faint accent, was the thing that broke their relationship apart.

A quick shake of the head was Ahren’s immediate response. “It isn’t an issue, I was just surprised.”

“By…” Genuine confusion filled Holly’s eyes. “What I sound like?”

“It’s only that my father had a similar accent. I wouldn’t be able to ascribe the differences, but it merely took me by surprise.”

Now that was interesting. There were very few dragons in the Northwest Territories themselves, but there was still plenty of communication over the borders and the mountains. That Ahren’s father wasn’t originally from the Draconic Autonomous region was unusual—Ahren  _ had _ claimed that he was far smaller than his mother, far more fragile and lanky. It would be fascinating to meet him, to see if there was something to be said about how the geography of the Moonraker range affected a dragon’s size at maturity.

“I’m from the Northwest Territories, bud.” The explanation was said simply, as if it were clear from the start. “The only reason my accent is so faint in Trade is because I went through accent therapy. It’s common in the more eastern parts and people have heavier accents out to the west.”

Ahren nodded solemnly, as if this was information he needed to remember. A quiet chuckle from Adira brough the group’s attention back to the royal family. While Malaidor smiled faintly, content and happy, Galengar was grinning outright, almost bouncing with excitement. It took him a moment to sign, setting his teacup down as he got Hollyhock’s attention.

‘I was not aware you were from the Territories! Where exactly are you from, if I may ask?’

Curiosity passed over Holly’s face. “I’m up on the foothills right in the rain shadow. Closer to the eastern border than the mountains proper, if that means anything to you.”

‘Hill-shadow towns, yes. I grew up near there.’ Galengar smiled at Holly. ‘Do you know where Chennie-on-Mounding is?’

The King was from the Northwest Territories. That was certainly a surprise to Marsh. Not a lot of people from the Territories were fans of Galailan, for good reason. Essren had not left a nice taste in their mouths. It would make sense that this was kept relatively under wraps, not an outright secret, but more of a don’t ask don’t tell policy. Plenty of nobles hadn’t been fond of the region as recently as two decades ago, so not being too vocal might’ve been the best course of action, especially earlier in Malaidor’s reign. Can’t have a husband accused of being a Norwie spy and keep ruling without addressing that.

Holly, on the other hand, was just happy to meet someone else from there, even if it was the most unlikely locale. “Of course! It’s two weeks by deivalger from my town! It’s in Hesak-in-the-Hills!”

Right, towns were weird out there. Marsh remembered their oldest sister’s wife talking about it, she was from just over the border. Areas were named after the cities Essren had razed, not after the towns that cropped up in the aftermath. It was typical of the eastern half especially, a combination of remembrance and an easy way to identify where a small, sparsely populated town was located without having to go through landmarks.

The Queen looked happy at this development, though. She wasn’t one to portray emotion in the typical way, but it was clear enough to Marsh. There was a little sway to her, a slight motion. It was sweet, the way her husband and daughter seemed to understand her perfectly fine, reciprocating with the same feelings.

Marsh didn’t really get why people were so off put by her, anyway. In their opinion, Queen Maliador was plenty expressive. Sure, she didn’t really emote with her face that much, but neither did Marsh, so who were they to fault her for that? People got what Marsh was feeling usually, even if it took some getting used to. Emotions were hard, and Malaidor was pretty clear with hers when you figured out what to look for. It just took a moment, was all.

Whenever she was excited or happy, her hands became loose fists, drifting up to her stomach, spine straightening like all of the energy in her was flooding up through her. In anger, she was still, head tilted slightly to one side, eyes level. It was pretty intuitive, in Marsh’s opinion, but Holly and Aidia and Ahren kept commenting about how stoic and emotionless she was, so maybe they were wrong.

In all fairness, they’d found her to be incredibly kind. Malaidor was more subtle than most, perfectly happy to take none of the credit, but she cared about people. She’d given them all blank checks for education and a place to stay and food to eat, no questions asked. That was pretty nice, especially considering the quality of what they were getting.

Outside of Marsh’s musing, everyone was having a fun time, Ahren getting Holly to say various words with his amulet and marveling at how different he sounded. The dragon’s eyes were rounded with wonder, staring at his partner like Holly’s voice was gods-given. Well, it was, in a way. To be honest, Marsh was more impressed at Holly’s  _ lack _ of an accent in Trade. It was not easy to get rid of a Northwest accent, harder than a Centrailian, not that Marsh had bothered much. They liked his accent. It was very cute.

“Hey Holly.” He turned to look at them, smile easy on his face. “If you take it off, can you do your accent in Trade?”

There were noises of interest and curiosity from the half-orc and the dragon, while the royal family did their best to stifle their chuckles.

“I mean, yeah?” Taking off the amulet, Holly let himself speak in that oddly melodic tone. “I might’ve had accent training, but I can still  _ have _ it if I want.”

Aidia tilted her head, addressing the king as Ahren hemmed and hawed, as if discovering that he liked something  _ very _ much after all. “Your Majesty, if I may ask, where exactly is Chennie-on-Mounding, and why is it called that?”

‘It’s farther west and south than Hessak-in-the-Hills—if you know where the Dori’hak pass is through the mountains, it’s closer to there.’ Those were certainly places that existed, Marsh had to assume. ‘The area itself sits in a wide valley between two former cities, Chennie and Mounding—’ King Galengar made the signs for the places before remembering to fingerspell them— ‘but there are many towns in the valley.’

“I would love to hear more.” Her voice was the epitome of smooth, even though the princess gave her a side-eyed glance. Buttering up the king wasn’t going to help much, not for this family.

The King gave her a polite smile, his signs growing more formal. ‘There isn’t much to hear, I’m sure your friend here can tell you far more than I could. I left many years ago and times are changing.’

“That they are.” The way Aidia said it was more a threat than anything.

Clearing their throat, Marsh spoke up for the first time in a while. Neither Aidia nor Galengar were enjoying this conversation. “I’d be interested in hearing what you three think of the new medical advances coming in from Ilvon, I’ve read a lot about how they’re incompatible with arcane treatments and patroned folk.”

Holly blinked at that, as if he hadn’t even realized his biology had changed upon patroning. The medical information on arcana was limited, mostly the result of a couple centuries of suppression and a focus on the main beings people were patroned to, but Marsh had a vested interest in getting their hands on information. From what they could scrounge up, a patronship altered the arcanist’s body in unpredictable ways, never mind the tweaks done to the mind. Thank the gods Holly had been kept relatively unchanged. It seemed that he was lucky enough to have a patron both merciful and familiar with his biology.

With an easy grace, the Queen smiled down at them, hands folded primly in her lap. Marsh’s change of topic was appreciated, that was clear enough, even if they didn’t know why Galengar was not a fan of talking about his past. That was fair, really, Marsh wasn’t too keen on rehashing things long and done. As the king signed his answer, something about how it was fascinating to see the new fusions of medical technology working in tandem with arcana, Marsh could see the black whorls of tattoos on his wrists, just peeking out from his embroidered jacket.

Arcane energy prickled at the back of their neck, the little hairs standing on end as something in the room rearranged itself. No, it wasn’t a change, they had just started noticing the way magic was pooling in this room, drawn this way and that by focuses they couldn’t see. It wasn’t like how Holly cast, this was new, something rigid and mechanical, not the free-flowing streams and rivers of their own magic. This was something contained, energetic and vibrant, but contained.

There was no reaction from anyone else, though, not the guards that lined the walls, a dark haired elf man who glanced at the king a few too many time for the two of them not to be fucking and a stern human woman who’d probably been here four months, if that. Interesting. Very interesting. It seemed that Marsh was looking up magical tattoos when they got the chance.


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Holly has a great first day of school!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> can elise keep her hands to herself? no. is she a minor character that i love? yes. also dont mind if the next few chaps are late im just lightly dying

The Academy of Magics was proud of itself enough that it bordered on hubris. The spires of their buildings scraped at the bottom of the sky, just a few leaps below the clouds, but those enrolled in the programs and classes it offered acted like the stone façade of the building held the light of the sun, they were the protectors, charged with the noble, thankless task of preventing the power they cradled in their hands from reaching the unworthy, grabbing fingers of the masses. They were, suffice to say, a herd of pompous jackasses.

Though they preached education above all, the wizards were not equipped to understand or accept alternative forms of practice or research. The classes in the Academy were rigid, strictly based on what god or fae—or, in very few cases, dragon—the pupil was patroned to without addressing the idea of non-standard patrons. A list of acceptable power sources governed the social dynamics of the school, with those in the employ of the most powerful being privy to more respect.

From what Hollyhock could tell, people here were assigned patrons from their family. It was a status symbol, to have a patroned child. There was time allocated for the patronship to settle, typically a few years or until the person was able to function in their normal life. It was odd, the way everyone seemed to fall in line, few, if any, having a visible mark of their patronship.

At least the education provided was high quality. It was among the best in arcana that one could achieve on the continent, all the various nation states included, only shown up by a select few colleges up in Eragah. The schooling was top notch, but it was the social scene, a vital, secondary aspect that drew people to the Academy from far flung lands. Mingling and rubbing shoulders with powerful families was quite a draw, especially for students of other countries.

Predictably, the offspring of those families didn’t take well to Hollyhock’s presence in their domain. Anyone could have told Hollyhock this, but he didn’t mind the added challenge. Who cared what they thought, really? While the children of nobles gossiped amongst themselves about the unclipped half-elf with an arcane scar on his face, Hollyhock could rest easy in knowing that he was of a small minority whose parents actually loved each other.

He would be at an immediate disadvantage socially, that was obvious enough. With his heritage on full display to anyone who could see, it was abundantly clear that, despite Malaidor’s initiatives and inclusive policies, half-elves were still not seen as equal in the social sphere in the major urban areas. In areas that had been so thoroughly dominated by Essren the Burner, like the capital, it was only more visible.

That he had as much to his name as he had in his purse was another issue. Those who succeeded at the Academy were those that were rich, quite rich. Malaidor, for some merciful, selfless reason, had decided to foot his bill, taking care of everything he needed, arcane supplies and tutors included. It was more than kind, especially considering the implication that all who were on the royal scholarship were afforded the same blank check. Holly would be entitled to his stipend as a student as well, along with a truly ridiculous sum Ahren was being paid as a diplomat.

It probably wasn’t too crazy, in the long run, but Holly had never been one to find himself in an abundance of money. His family were farmers living in a small town that bartered with other towns, there wasn’t much  _ need _ for it to begin with. Money was for the people travelling out of the Territories, everything else could be repaid with favors instead of shiny trinkets.

Shockingly, registration day had gone fine. He had been enrolled in the classes that a standard first year would attend, despite the fact that his patron wasn’t a standard patron, no guild to his name, and no idea how to do ‘proper’ magic. At least he was more capable and exact than the rest of his class on that last bit. Somehow, a not insignificant portion of his fellow students had never truly practiced their casting.

He had been given thick dark green robes that fit him well, a sturdy pack that would fit all of the books he was expected to carry around with him, and boots that didn’t look like they’d survived two months of tailing a wizard around random small towns, a fae summoning gone wrong, and then two months of walking across the kingdom to the coast. Suffice to say, they weren’t  _ bad _ , they just weren’t made for the kind of strain Holly expected his boots to take.

Apparently, this was the standard uniform for him, since his patron was a fae. The silver trim was supposed to tell others about who his patron was, but, from what Holly had been able to glean from the tailors, it simply meant that his patron was non-standard. Wonderful. Hopefully no one would ask too many prying questions.

Standing in the giant stone entryway, waiting for the first of his classes to be called, a twinge of nervousness filled Holly’s stomach. The foyer he was ushered inside of was huge, almost cavernous, a podium and a set of large doors off to one side, currently standing unoccupied and closed, respectively. All manner of people wandered around him, mostly elves, with the occasional human, half-elf, orc, half-orc forming their own social groups, chatting idly or looking over various things.

Students were expected to mill about and socialize before the first day of classes started, get to know each other. Holly could already see the beginnings of cliques forming. Not knowing anyone, and, taking in the look of old, spoiled money around him, he elected that he didn’t  _ want _ to know anyone. It wasn’t like he was going to have much trouble finding someone to sit with at lunch, Marsh and Ahren had breaks in their days at similar times anyway. Instead of making small talk with anyone, Holly simply leaned against the wall and looked over his schedule.

It started off simple, ‘History of Magic’ twice weekly, taught by Elden Tryst. It was an Elven name, from what he could recall. The odd part was the first name. Aidia had been explaining naming conventions a while back, how there were many half-elves and Humanish named “Essren” or “Elden” out of hope that they wouldn’t be sent away or clipped. Weird.

Tomorrow and overmorrow, he had something called ‘Focus Finding’ with Eidna Lind which, in all honesty, sounded like some meditation mindfulness thing and Hollyhock was very ready to just sit and daydream for the whole class. His father had tried to teach him to do meditation, but it had always ended in Holly, painfully bored, trying to find something, anything to entertain himself with. At least he could work on speaking to Something.

After lunch today, he had ‘Introduction to Spellcraft and Wand-work’ with Briary Denairo, an Orcic name, which seemed like it would be useful. Not the wand-work part, that is. That was just confusing—why would someone need a wand to work magic? Maybe it was just to help people who weren’t exact with their progress yet.

His last class was called ‘Theoretical Magic’, taught by Eleyne Vivalanaie, that met once a week for several hours. If Holly was being honest, he was only taking this class because the Queen had thought he would like it very much. It was meant for graduate students, but she’d been so persuasive that it was hard to say ‘no’, especially with how excited she looked. Apparently, people rarely spoke to her like she was a person.

Jerking Holly out of his thought, the hairs on the back of his neck stood up. Looking up, he caught the eye of a young and rich looking elf girl that had been approaching him. She smiled a concise, polite smile that had to have been trained into her to get that level of perfection. Oh, ugh. There was something in her face—Holly couldn’t place it, but it was there—that let him know in no uncertain terms that she thought she was better than him.

Her clothes were neat and expensive looking, the crisp, white robes of a godly patron. The orange accents brough the name ‘Igren, Lord of the Eternal Flame’ to his mind, a common patron among the powerful for his associations with luck and cunningness. He wasn’t really worshipped, at least, not in the Northwest Territories. It was weird, to pick what would seem to be a useless god for most nobility, but fine.

“Hello.” There was a nasal quality to her voice, as if she were trying her best not to breathe the same air as Hollyhock. “My name is Elise Valaidoran. Are you a first-year?”

Stopping in front of him, just inside arm’s length, the elf woman did a perfect curtsy. Holly didn’t bow. That would just be ridiculous, they were supposed to be equals, so he was going to behave like it. Even from here, he could see her hands, delicate from little use, almost awkwardly gripping the straps of her bag, her flats embroidered with little garnets that shimmered in the arcane lights.

“Yeah, I am. Hollyhock Kenning, nice to meet you.” Compared to her, Holly sounded borderline gruff.

Inclining her head politely, Elise looked like the pinnacle of the noble families. “It is very nice to meet you, Sair Kenning. I’m a first-year, too”

“Just Hollyhock’s fine.” Holly turned back to his schedule, committing the rooms to memory once more in the event that he forgot his original memorization. Definitely not because he was very uninterested in speaking more to this elf girl that looked down at him.

“So,” she bounced on her toes, hands drifting behind her back, “where are you from?”

Holly glanced up. Looking at her properly, he could see that she was just a few hairs taller than him. “Teeny-tiny village in the Northwest Territories, you wouldn’t’ve heard of it.”

Genuine shock came over her face. “Wow, really? That’s so far! How long did it take you to get here?” With almost hesitant motions, she took a step closer to him, as if expecting him to bite.

“Two months or so.” Two months, one week, and three days. His parents would be expecting him to write home.

“That’s amazing! Was it hard coming here?”

Resisting the urge to sigh, Holly folded up his schedule again. It seemed he was trapped in this conversation. “Not particularly, just some walking.”

Elise tilted her head, dark grey eyes owlish. “But the culture is so different, at least, from what I’ve had the fortune of reading. I can’t say that I’m quite well versed in the history of the Northwest, good books are hard to come by.” A laugh tittered out of her like it was a particularly funny joke.

“There’s plenty about it where I grew up.” It wasn’t that funny. “Culture’s different everywhere you go, you’d feel the same if you found yourself in Centrailia.”

“Oh, I’ve been there, actually? Do you know where the city of Cadia is?”

Of course Holly knew where the political seat of power in Centrailia was. “Yes, I do.”

As Elise rambled on about how lovely her vacation had been in the most capital-like city in Centrailia, Holly found his mind wandering. Nothing had really prepared him for elves like these. It had been foolish of him to think that everyone would be like his father, full of sparks and joy, ears always flicking with an emotion that had consumed him.

“Elise,” Hollyhock interrupted her in the middle of a sentence as her ears twitched into an emotion he didn’t recognize, “don’t you think we should make the rounds with other people? Not that I don’t like talking with you.”

A faint blush passed across her fair cheeks. “O-oh, but you just looked so lonely over here. I thought you might like my companionship. If I may ask, what is your native language? I know some people over there speak Trade from birth and others Ilvoni…”

“Ilvoni.” Sure, let’s look more exotic to the court kid. “My village spoke Ilvoni as a native language, but most people also knew Trade from a young age.”

Her eyes turned wide, like that wasn’t even an option. Almost belatedly, Holly noted that she hadn’t made an effort to switch from Higherspeak. “Wow, it must have been so hard to learn! I’m still taking lessons in Trade, but it’s just so hard to learn, right?”

“Higherspeak’s worse.” Holly shrugged. “Trade’s a blend of lots of languages, so it’s easier if you start off knowing at least one. It’s more useful, too. Even if I don’t speak Garra-garra, I can still make myself understood at the basic level.”

“Trade borrows from Garra-garra?” Were kids not taught basics in other languages with their education?

With a slow blink, Holly turned his eye on her. “It borrows from the vocabulary. Took some of the grammar from Ilvoni. It makes learning those a lot easier.”

“That’s incredible! Do they really teach you that level of learning?” Oh goodie. This part of the conversation.

“Why wouldn’t they?”

Elise looked like Holly had asked the most obvious question in the world. “Well, it’s just so decentralized out there, wouldn’t it be hard to get a good education?”

The Northwest Territories had some of the best education in all of Galailan, but it was fine. “It’s community led.” That was all he was going to say. It wasn’t Holly’s job to be an educator.

A pause floated between them, Elise’s eyes flicking from Holly’s ears and back to his eye. Right, it was just so interesting for a person to not be clipped at birth, especially for wealthy elves. She probably hadn’t even  _ seen _ a half-elf before, or, if she had, they had been doing their very best to blend in. For Elise, Hollyhock was something incredibly, enticingly new.

“May—um, may I ask a question?” She brought her hands back to the front, almost wringing them from nerves.

Glancing at the clock on the wall, Holly reminded himself that he had ten more minutes before school was supposed to start. They’d go by fast enough. “You just did, but sure.”

Her words came out in an excited rush. “May I please touch your ears?”

A few of the people near them turned their heads, glancing at the scene unfolding before them: a dark-haired half-elf, minding his own business, leaned against the wall, and an elf, hair dyed platinum blonde, ready to meet her first non-elf. The few other non-elves cast him sympathetic glances. This happened a lot, it seemed.

“No.” His voice was harsher than most would have dared. There was a good chance no one had ever told Elise ‘no’ before, judging from how her face slipped into a frown.

“Why not?” She pouted. She actually, genuinely pouted like a child.

Holly’d had enough. “ _ Why not _ ? Is that what you actually said to me?” Holly made direct eye contact, channeling his mother. “You asked to  _ touch my ears _ ?” Gods bless Ahren for rambling on and on about how sexy elves found ears.

That got heads turning. Elves wanted to see who was touching ears, it seemed. Fighting a grin, Hollyhock adopted a horrified expression, reveling in the way Elise’s blush darkened in embarrassment. Now this was going to be something that got people talking, an elf that wanted to do such  _ indecent _ things with a half-elf, in broad daylight too. It was the punchline of a joke, no one was going to want to associate with her after this.

Stuttering out some sort of answer, Elise drew her hands up in front of her. “That wasn’t what I meant! Don’t misinterpret my meaning!”

Hollyhock could see one of the minders, likely graduate students, start to make xer way over. Someone had mentioned to him that graduate students worked as assistants here and there, some of them making sure nothing broke out on admissions day. It wasn’t that Holly was trying to start something, it was just that he was more than sick of this. Rudeness like this wouldn’t’ve flown back home.

Taking a deep breath, he tried to calm himself down. It was fine. He was fine. This was going to pass and he was going to get to start his day like a normal person. Despite himself, Holly found himself feeling a twinge of eagerness at his classes. At least no one was going to single him out for much of anything. That had to be against a rule or two.

“Excuse me, what’s going on?” An accent from the coast drifted through the graduate student’s voice.

Xe was tall, more than a head above Holly. Robes as blue as seawater contrasted nicely against xer dark skin, lines done in a golden paint marking this person as being from the floating cities. Xe was beautiful, really, with eyes that were so brown they were almost black and a shaved head. With a light sway, xe moved as if xe was still on a floating city, the ground an unstable thing under their feet.

Holly’s voice was the perfect image of formality, even if he played up the accent slightly. He didn’t crawl out of the woods not knowing how to speak to authority. “My apologies, Sair, it was just that Sair Elise here asked to touch my ears, and I felt that an offer like that was unacceptable in a public setting with a near stranger. If this is merely a cultural misunderstanding, then I will do my best to accommodate.”

There was an unamused look levied at Elise. “Is that so?”

“I did no such thing!” The protest ripped itself out of Elise’s throat. “Why would I ever do something so  _ crude _ as try and touch something like  _ that _ !”

That was a mistake to say in front of a human from an autonomous region. “Is that your official statement?”

“M-my lawyer will be in touch.” She stamped her foot like a child. From how she was acting, Holly didn’t doubt it.

“Then you’ll be able to tell your lawyer that the two of you apologized to each other and then proceeded to wait elsewhere for class to start.” Xer voice was smooth and easy. “Unless a trip to the dean’s office is in store for your first day.”

Holly gave xem a smile that could hang stars. “Of course not, I apologize, Elise. I’m sure it was just one big misunderstanding. Courtly manners are just so hard to get the hang of.”

“My apologies too.” She didn’t sound very apologetic. “It won’t happen again.”

A voice in the back of Holly’s head whispered ‘ **_liar_ ** ’ at her. It’d been pretty clear from her tone, but Something’s help was appreciated.

“Good. In that case, please break it up. Sair Elise, I’m  _ confident _ that you have other friends to speak with here.” The graduate student ushered Elise off with a wave.

Watching her leave, Holly adjusted his pack. “Thanks, you didn’t have to.”

“It’s my job.” The answer was simple as xe leaned back against the wall beside him. “It was worse when I did my undergrad, mind you.”

“I can only imagine.” That must have been, what, five years ago? Say what you will, things  _ had _ gotten better in recent times. “I’m Hollyhock, by the way.”

“Vialai, pleasure. Is this your first semester here?” The way xe phrased it let Holly know that xe knew full well it was his first semester. A toothy grin crossed xer face. “You have that look like you’re new to the capital. Who are your teachers?”

As Holly listed them, xer eyes lit up at Eleyne Vivalanaie. “Oh, she’s great. How did you get her as a new student?”

“Um, Queen Malaidor insisted—I’m on her scholarship plan and—”

“As am I.” That smile widened. “Queen Malaidor can be a bit excitable when discussing schedules, you’re lucky, she knows who all the good teachers are and insists on placements with them rather than the most politically influential. Which Eleyne class are you in?”

It took Holly a moment to remember. “Theoretical Magic, I think it sounds cool.”

“I believe one of my friends is in that one, I would have to ask, though. I’ve heard good things, though. You’re in good hands, even if you’ll be the baby.”

“Oh, I’m used to it. Back home there weren’t really years or grades for school, it was based on skills acquired.” The divisions by age here were confusing to say the least. People unable to complete core skills would still be moved up while those who were racing through the curriculum held back.

Vialai shrugged. “It’s rather similar back home, but you will adjust. Don’t let the elves know you’re on the royal scholarship, though. They won’t leave you alone.”

Groaning, Holly gave xem a smile. “I don’t think they will, either way.”

“Why is that?” There was a light curiosity in xer voice.

“I heard that folks with non-standard patrons aren’t exactly common here.”

“Well, I wouldn’t say that.” Xe clicked xer tongue against xer teeth, thinking. “You would be surprised at what passed for a non-standard patron. Most will stare and then get over themselves in the first few weeks, especially in the classes they frequent. An older student wouldn’t even blink, so I wouldn’t worry myself.”

That was promising. “Thank you, really.”

With a quiet chuff, xe gave a little smirk. “Think nothing of it. You will find a space here, even if it’s with the researchers. No harm at all in making friends a bit older. Now, pay attention. Classes are about to start.”

The sound of a bell ringing punctuated Vialai’s statement. Pushing off from the wall, xe blended back into the crowd, moving around suddenly still students like a river around rocks. Casual magic drifted through the air, the smell of driftwood and lake water. This was as easy as breathing for them, crossing through crowded spaces. Maybe it was a part of their magic.

Following everyone else’s gaze, Holly turned his attention to the headmaster. He was a heavyset elf man with kind-looking eyes, long, light brown hair done up in simple braids. As he stood at a podium, he rang a large bell. Silence fell as people’s faces turned to watch, the bell stopping as he gave a generic speech on how happy he was to welcome all the new students, how he hoped everyone would thrive here. What really stood out to Holly, though, was the sign language interpreter beside him, faithfully translating his words. That would have been a Malaidor-instituted accommodation.

As the large wooden doors beside the headmaster opened, students began to enter into the interior. Time for school, so here was hoping nothing went too horribly. From the back of the crowd, Vialai gave Holly a friendly wave and a wink, the first person in his corner. Holly could do this. He just had to get used to being around this many people, pressing against him like a mudslide. Gods, this school had a higher population than his town.


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ahren has a nice day doing dragon politics.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> bit late but life got busy, have an extra long chapter

As shocking as it was, Ahren’s day was going okay. It was a miracle, truly, but he hadn’t managed to irrevocably mess anything up. He hadn’t even woken up late, too anxious to sleep past the first rays of sunlight streaming in through his window. His partners were curled up around him, the quartet having agreed that, despite the rooms afforded to them, they would still be content with sleeping together. Even if Aidia had wanted some time apart.

Quiet snores from Hollyhock had filled the first hour of wakefulness, Ahren too afraid of rousing his partners to move from his position. He just looked so peaceful like this, cheek rested against Ahren’s chest, the barest bit of drool staining the dragon’s sleep shirt. Oh, how could he feel anything but fondness at that, at his partner so relaxed that he didn’t even stir as Ahren wrapped his arm around him tighter. Holly had always been a heavy sleeper, and who was Ahren to fault him for it? Was it really such a crime to enjoy having his partner in his arms?

An early rising Marsh seemed to think so, the first grumblings of wakefulness disturbing their form. They always seemed so young in slumber, the ever-present scowl that Ahren had grown so fond of melting away into something that could be called serene, that is, if Ahren was keeping that thought inside his head where Marsh couldn’t hear it. Probably.

With a soft groan, their face scrunched up, as if unhappy to find themselves in the waking world. It had to be the cutest thing Ahren had ever seen, the way gilded freckles seemed to glint in the morning light as golden eyes flickered open. Even like this, hair messy from sleep, Marsh still looked like an old god, cranky and groggy, but still awe inspiring in their power. He had half a mind to sacrifice on their altar, if he thought it would please them.

“See something you like?” Voice rough from sleep, Marsh’s face softened.

If Ahren heard nothing else, he would live happy with their voice still in his ears. “How could I not with you so near?”

“Don’t be a sap, we have places to be.” They said, without much motivation to go anywhere. “What’ll the dragons think if you’re late.”

Who cared, Ahren had his lovers with him and that was enough. “I’m sure they wouldn’t mind another day.”

Humming, Marsh rolled over onto their belly, that much closer to Ahren. “I’m sure they would. Now, up and attem before I wake up Holly myself, you know he needs an extra minute.”

That he did. Ahren pressed a chaste kiss to Marsh’s lips, feeling their mouth curl under his in a smile as he carefully extricated himself from the half-elf using him as a pillow. His partner was a heavy sleeper, but this was around the time he would be waking up anyway. A quiet, barely awake noise slipped out of Holly at Ahren’s trepidatious motions, mismatched eyes blinking open, uncomprehending.

Groaning, Holly tugged lightly at Ahren’s sleep shirt, pressing his face into the dragon’s side. “No.”

“No?” Ahren did his best to hide the mirth in his voice. “I’m afraid I don’t know what you mean.”

“No. Go back to sleep.” It was hard to make the words out against the thick fabric, but Ahren somehow persevered.

A chuckle from Marsh was Holly’s only warning before a fond hand was running through his hair. “We can’t do that, hon. You know that, so come on, it’s time for school.”

Groggy eyes glanced at Marsh as heavy limbs curled up tighter around Ahren. “School can wait. It’s barely morning.”

“I hate to break it to you,” Ahren said, calmly and lovingly wriggling out of Holly’s grip, “but it’s been morning for a few good hours now. Marsh has to go be a doctor, you have to go to school, and I have to do my diplomatic duties.”

Logic was not going to get him anywhere. Pressing a kiss to Holly’s forehead, Ahren sat him up, getting his blood flowing enough to keep him awake. Holly had never been particularly good at mornings. The half-elf obliged him, staggering to the bathroom on unsteady feet out of habit. If he bumped into a few walls on the way, who was to say.

Their morning went quickly, though. Once Holly was up and vaguely functional, everything went much smoother. Ahren did his best to brush down his new hair and clean his teeth, commandeering the mirror as Marsh wove a simple plait over their shoulder and Holly pulled his hair out of his face, fastening the eyepatch on. He really was spending less time wearing that when he was alone—nowadays, it was more to avoid annoying questions than anything.

Oh, but he looked so dapper in his robes, the heavy things a size too large. Marsh, too, looked endearing, wearing not a uniform but a simple dress shirt and formal pants. A meeting with the dean of the Royal Academy of Physicians was, evidentially, something they were going to dress up for. That, or Aidia’s threat of not looking for books they’d like in the library if they didn’t dress up for the day was being taken with the utmost seriousness. It was quite a dangerous threat; Marsh was at risk of such things as dragging one of their friends to the library and camping out there themselves.

As his partners whisked away to their destinations together, Holly pressing a kiss to his lips that lingered a bit more than would have been decent and Marsh pulling Ahren down to feather a chaste peck against his jaw, Ahren couldn’t help but feel fondness. The quiet was… no longer comforting. When he had grown accustomed to the noise and chaos, Ahren didn’t know, but it wasn’t all that bad.

Getting on with his day, he had his own dress code to follow. Instead of wearing the clothes that Ahren had grown to feel comfortable in, he was going to be donning something more formal. It was odd, pulling on the robes that had been afforded to him, rich with embroidery from the Seven Peaks. His family must have sent these far in advance, anticipating that Ahren would make some sort of mistake on his journey.

Heart in his throat, Ahren tried to fight down thoughts that swam up to the forefront of his mind. His mother was going to be more than furious. She was going to be an avenging angel of fury, white hot rage dripping out from between her teeth at how much of a failure Ahren had been. The sound of her roaring was going to rattle the castle down from its precarious perch on the mountains, the click of her heels on the tiled floor was going to make the flowers wither in fear as she passed.

More months of sitting in his room, frozen, were in store for Ahren. He could see it so clearly, how he was going to sit, holding as still as possible, terrified to even breathe too loudly lest it trigger her ire. That was the last thing Ahren wanted, to bear the brunt of his mother’s anger. Kindness was not something she was familiar with.

His father, though, his father would be the one to truly pay. As much as it killed Ahren, he still tried to ignore the way his father would move extra carefully the day after Ahren had committed some error, looking far more tired than he let on. It… it hurt. It hurt Ahren that his father was so willing to take the punishments meant for his son without complaint. Not once had his father mentioned it to him, but Ahren could guess. Not many people around the castle would dare mark him up as thoroughly.

Swallowing, Ahren distracted himself with the mirror. It was important that he look polished and professional. He was representing his family, after all. With his shed passed, Ahren’s form looked so wholly different that it was a challenge to reconcile his supreme undesirability with the man’s face that looked out to him.

Little patches of green scales dotted his tawny cheeks like freckles, glinting in the early morning light. His eyes, too, had remained green. Doctor Lend had been correct: Ahren did not, in fact, look like his mother. Not his father, either. If he had to be honest, Ahren didn’t look like anyone in his blood family, though exercise had been helping him fill out some. No, he could see traces of Holly and Marsh and Aidia here and there, mixed with other people he had seen along his journey here. It was… nice. It was nice to be something that could be considered, on some level, deserving. The only trial left would be keeping his disgrace from others.

A knock at his door tore him from his thoughts, and Ahren realized that he’d been buttoning the same button for the past five minutes. One last check found his appearance in order, as put together as he was ever going to be. Hopefully, it was going to be enough. Opening the door to his chambers, an older guard greeted him, smiling pleasantly.

“Hello, Diplomat Jarra-Hzsii,” she said, voice smoothed over by experience, “my name is Mage and I’ll be your escort for the time being. The royal grounds do tend to be a bit confusing, so don’t worry about navigating. That’s why you have me.”

There was some other reason for this level of guidance, likely just added security. People got unnerved when there was no visible protection, especially with what was happening in the Solaq—or, at least, from what Ahren had heard was happening. Really, he couldn’t fault the royal family for that, wanting to reassure people and keep everyone safe. It was dangerous having all of one’s allies unprotected, especially in one’s own capitol.

“Hello, Sair Mage. It is a pleasure to make your acquaintance. I am ready to leave, if that is quite alright.” Wincing at the words that came out of his mouth, still both overly formal and a bit distorted from his new facial structure, Ahren’s hands went back to fussing at the clasps of his overrobe.

The dark red fabric was lined with silver, the colors of both his mother and his region of the mountains. He had never looked good in red, if Ahren had to be honest. For the first time in his life, he hoped that this was a formality he could do without. Perhaps he could ask for a modified color scheme, if even to switch the silver and the red—no, no. That would be far too expensive. Humility was a gift and who was Ahren to squander it.

As the two of them walked, Ahren could feel the silence between them. Sair Mage simply hummed along to a song she knew, perfectly happy to do without conversation as she led him through the winding hallways of the palace. For the dragon, though, it was nigh intolerable. He was going to go mad if there was no conversation, but he wasn’t going to be the one to start it. Clearly, Sair Mage wouldn’t want to converse with something like him—she was obviously well-versed in his defects.

The hall the Council of Dragons met in was outside the palace, it seemed, a ten-minute walk or so through the gardens. Why they had not been afforded a set of rooms—Maker, even just one room—inside the palace evaded Ahren. Even though it was nice out, the weather would be turning soon. Before anyone knew it, that brisk breeze would be dipping into the numbing chill of winter and Ahren would be digging out his cloak. If anything, he should be doing that before it got any colder, the wind sliced right through his half-cape as is. How anyone enjoyed this weather was inconceivable.

“Is this going to be your first winter here?” Sair Mage’s voice sounded, clear and confident.

“Er, yes.” Ahren couldn’t help the blush that lit up his cheeks. “I’m afraid I am not very familiar with the weather patterns of the coast.”

A friendly smile eased his nerves somewhat. “Oh, don’t you worry. That is, unless you don’t have anything thicker than that. The first snap’s going to be coming soon, so I’d bundle up if I were you.”

It was hardly Olisas, how could the chill be setting in already? It was as if this weather wanted him to perish as soon as possible. “I will, thank you for your advice, Sair Mage.”

“Oh, Mage is just fine. I haven’t been a ‘Sair’ in a year and a day and I’d be opposed to kicking that streak.”

It was odd, the way Sair Mage spoke. There was a slight lilt to her words, hidden under a creaking voice. She was hoarse, as if she had been shouting for hours before she arrived at his quarters. Really, it was the oddest thing. Was this what humanoids sounded like as they aged? It couldn’t be—the Queen had still spoken in a voice as easy as silk, despite living through half her life already.

Despite his musings, the guard continued to speak. “Though, if you need anything in particular or have a question, just let me know. I’ve been here for a while and I don’t mind answering.”

“Of course, thank you kindly.” Ahren heard himself reply, his attention wholly seized by the building looming in front of him.

It was gigantic, soaring stone arches and multicolored stained-glass windows rising at least four stories above their heads in a grand display of wealth. Pale orange light flickered through the glass, making spots on the well-kept path dance and shimmer like the whims of the trickster gods of old. It was incredible, something unlike Ahren had ever seen before. He had never been allowed in sections of the castle that looked even remotely like this.

As Sair Mage opened the large stone door for him and led him through winding hallways, Ahren couldn’t help but look around at all this place offered. Inside, the ceiling was high, barred with strong looking stone crossbeams, all decorated with shimmering trinkets. This room was huge, more than enough for Ahren to exist in his Draconic form, likely with other dragons.

Light streamed in through the windows as arcane stones lit up small alcoves. Everything was bathed in a myriad of colors, the very air seeming to drift differently through this building, laden with the smells of foreign spices. Truly, it was awe inspiring, the way the very winter abated with a mere entrance to this sanctum.

There was no time to linger overmuch, not as Sair Mage led him through winding alabaster halls, chuckling to herself all the while. What a sight this must make, a young dragon awestruck by a few artistic windows and a vaulted roof. He was likely making a fool of himself, but Ahren couldn’t bring himself to care, not with the incredible architecture he was witnessing, the perfectly white walls carved with all sorts of scenes, dye masterfully added to create true works of art.

Stopping in front of a polished oak door, the wood stained to a near black by some sort of varnish and inlaid with glittering jewels, Ahren had a blessed moment to regain his composure. The smile Sair Mage gave him was one of fondness, not mockery, despite his behavior. This was foolish, acting like a child witnessing splendor for the first time.

As Sair Mage opened the door, Ahren couldn’t help but feel his heart jump into his chest. This was it, what he had set out to do. There was not a shred of doubt in his mind that Ahren was to fail miserably, make a mockery out of his name and face. Not even Hollyhock would want him after this, the Elven Queen would be throwing him out to the wolves. Maker, he didn’t even know the way home, all turned around from illness and time.

Dimly Ahren heard his guard announce him as he took in the room, a grand thing. A large stone table took up the brunt of it, situated near a roaring fireplace. It was comfortably warm inside despite the chill in the outdoor air, likely from the flames. Walls had been painted a light yellow, paintings and tapestries from different cultures hanging like omens.

There were people in there. There were many people in there, at least ten. As faces turned to look at him, curious and friendly, Ahren just felt his heart sink lower. He was clearly the youngest here, the youngest and the latest. Almost certainly, everyone harbored resentment towards him, the petulant child that delayed such an important event. It took everything in him not to shrink down, to press his long-gone wings against his back in a vain attempt to calm himself down.

Most of the people present were dragons, though there were humanoids here and there. Some dressed in the uniforms of guards, making polite conversation before the session was called into order. All of the dragons, though, had forms that looked either human or Elven, motions and speech confident. It was only him that was a stranger in his own form, a stranger in this room.

An older Elven-looking woman with patches of silver scales on her cheeks gave Ahren a polite smile. She was truly beautiful in the way dragons were meant to be, eyes so pale that they reflected the room like twin mirrors. Long, white hair fell to her waist, interspersed here and there with tasteful braids. Her clothing, too, was befitting of her station: loose, comfortable looking robes done in black and silver, as if they were made of her very shadow.

“It is good to hear of your safety. Please, feel free to mingle, we are simply waiting for the time so that we may begin. I trust the Queen’s advisors briefed you on who everyone is and what we have discussed?” The woman’s voice was like the crunching of snow underfoot and wind whistling through the trees.

“Yes, Sair.” Two weeks had been well spent getting Ahren caught up. Seven peoples’ statuses and names memorized, four months’ worth of developments reviewed. “Thank you for your kindness.”

She nodded to him, returning to the conversation she had previously been having with what looked like a dragon from the Polythallas Sea, skin a gorgeous dark brown, dark blue scales flecking her cheeks. Ahren was far out of his depth here, so far out of his depth. He kept quiet as he made the appearance of mingling, taking the time to familiarize himself with the seating situation.

There were little note cards denoting where people would be sitting, so it was quite easy to find his seat. It was located at the edge of the table, next to one S. Ezkei. Councilmember Ezkei, he remembered her well. She was one of the dragons from the Moonraker range, the head of her clan. From what Ahren had been told, she controlled a great deal of territory, among the most powerful of the families in the area. Councilmember Ezkei had also formerly been on the Autonomous Region Defense Board, a since-dissolved operation, for many, many years. She was no one to be foolish with.

Trying to silence his nerves, Ahren watched as everyone slowly took their seats, sinking into his own. Beside him, Councilmember Ezkei sat, a surprisingly small woman with a pale red headscarf. From what Ahren could see, her clothes were a plain thing, a simple grey shirt and black slacks, a thick woolen shawl wrapped around her arms. It was far from what he had imagined she would look like, considering what he had heard about her.

As everyone settled in, that same silver dragon stood from her seat at the head of the table. Eyes of all sorts of shades turned to her, apart from a small blond man. His violet gaze was unseeing, head simply tilted, face angled to the woman to show he was paying attention. A glance revealed the woman’s name to be Lirrra Kadelon, a member of a clan in the Far North, Ahren recalled.

“Hello, everyone.” Her smile, though small, was genuine. “Before we start this meeting, we seem to have a new face.” That smile turned on him and all Ahren could think about was sharp her fangs were, undulled by this form.

Everyone else also turned to look at him, save the blind dragon. A rainbow of faces masquerading under skins they didn’t own peered at the latecomer with a mixture of curiosity and kindness. Beside the violet dragon sat a dark-skinned Elven woman, leaning forward to quietly whisper into their ear, likely an audio transcription of the event.

Putting on his most mature smile, Ahren fought down the dread and nerves in his stomach. “Hello, all. My name is Ahren of Jarra-Hzsii, and I must apologize for how long it has taken me to get here. Without boring you all too much, I suffered some issues with my health on the road, but I am doing much better now. It will be a pleasure to meet and work with you all and I am quite glad to finally be in attendance.”

That got him some sympathetic looks around the table. It was incredible how everyone was so adept at acting and hiding their disgust. That same sea dragon stood, tucking a bit of their coily hair behind one slightly webbed ear. It seemed that they had taken a form closer to something a merfolk would have. Interesting, Doctor Lend  _ had _ mentioned the role of environment in the selection of forms. Perhaps this dragon was far more familiar with merfolk than other species.

A glance let Ahren know that they simply went by ‘K’.

“I welcome you, Ahren of Jarra-Hzsii, and am glad your health is better. If there is anything that you have a need of, do not hesitate to ask someone here.” Their voice was raspy, as if they were unused to speaking through air.

That was… kind. It was very kind of them. “Thank you, Councilmember K, I will endeavor to do so.”

They nodded their head in his direction with some level of finality, adjusting what looked to be a teal gossamer wrap around their torso before sitting back down. Before anyone else could speak, the blue dragon with a fringe of hair dyed a fading green beside them raised two fingers in the air to signal his wish to speak. It was bittersweet to return to a place where formality was so important. At least this ‘Kestrel’ was more reverent of it than Ahren’s companions.

“How old are you?” His voice was deep, far lower than what anything Ahren could manage to produce.

Ahren blinked, trying to keep the unsurety out of his form. “Three hundred and thirty-six? I will ensure that my inexperience is not an issue.”

The energy in the room changed from passive welcoming to shock. Beside him, Councilmember Ezkei’s face set into a frown. Ah, so this had been the wrong answer. Judging from how smiles fell into everything from anger to grief, there was nothing that Ahren could do to mitigate this. He was going to be punished, and punished severely.

Councilmember Ezkei didn’t bother to stand, her voice filling the room as if the air itself bent to listen. “My apologies, Kestrel, for taking the floor so suddenly, but I  _ must _ ask: were you sent here without your family or any such accompaniment?”

Ice filled his veins when she spoke, her accent reminding him too much of his house, too much of his mother. She was likely the one they were to put in charge of him, familiar with his customs and dialect, even as the meeting proceeded in Trade. This was to be the woman he answered to, the woman who would dole out his punishment. His youth was no excuse for this, for his mistakes.

Swallowing, Ahren got his mouth to work. “Yes, Ma’am, I was sent here alone.”

A note of pride filled him. There wasn’t even a hint of terror and anxiety quivering in his tone, Ahren was acting just as a professional should. If he could be honest in his own thoughts, he hadn’t missed this, the ever-present fear and uncertainty that came with life, the need to be the most pleasing aspect of himself at all times, only allowed to be imperfect if he wanted a slap to the face and a day without dinner. Travelling with his companions had been unlike anything in his life, and Ahren needed to ensure it had not spoiled him. He was to be a proper dragon, mature and obedient to his masters.

It didn’t stop him from recalling how they stopped for breakfast, and lunch,  _ and _ dinner every day, without fail. Everyone got as much food as they wanted, despite their behavior during the day. They rested whenever they wanted for however long they wanted without complaint. They slept and rose when they wanted, more than happy to keep walking and talking. It was strange and wonderful, horribly, illicitly freeing. Coming back to the realm of keeping his head down and tone carefully controlled felt like a dagger in his stomach, a new, mournful pain.

There was outrage in Councilmember Ezkei’s voice. “ _ Alone? _ ” Ahren flinched at her tone, knowing full well he was to be punished for such a display of disobedience.

Keeping his head down, Ahren let his eyes fix onto his lap, resisting the urge to let tears well up and spill down his face. He looked disgusting when he cried. “Yes, Councilmember, I set out alone. I did, however, meet a trio of travelers and joined them in their journey.”

As Ahren dared to glance up, he found the blue dragon, Kestrel’s face turning serious, almost protective. “You… weren’t sent out with any entourage at all?”

“No, Councilmember, I was not.”

Ahren could hear the frown in his tone. “Please, just call me Kestrel. And, at your age, at  _ any _ age, you should  _ not _ have been sent alone, especially on such a long journey.”

There were nods and concerned murmurs around the room, some people wrapping their arms around themselves in an effort to comfort themselves at the implications, eyes round and worried. Shockingly, more than a couple of people linked their pinkies to display a brazen, almost incident amount of physical contact. Despite everything, Councilmember Kestrel kept on speaking, voice calm and collected.

“We are, however,” there was some levity in his tone, “very relieved that you are alright. I do hope that you will find working with us to not be too horrible.” There were a few laughs at that, and Councilmember Kestrel shot a lighthearted, pointed look at a purple dragon, smaller than most of the rest. “Lilam be willing. I’m giving you a pointed look, Lilam. Don’t make his life awful.”

The violet dragon, Lilam, it seemed, gave Councilmember Kestrel a cheery grin, showing off a row of sharp, perfectly white teeth. “I have no  _ idea _ what you’re talking about, Kess-Kess, I am a  _ delight _ to be around.”

“Mm. I’m sure.” Councilmember Kestrel said, as dry as the Southern Wastes.

There were a few chuckles, and Ahren could have  _ sworn _ someone hissed ‘just wed already’, but that would be such an overstep of propriety that he was  _ sure _ he must have misheard. People, dragons especially, wouldn’t just  _ say _ that, would they? It would just be so indecent!

Lilam split their face open in an easy yawn, perfectly comfortable as they shifted into a small, wiry dragon and curled around the decorative carvings on the crest rail of their chair. As they rested their chin on the very top of the embroidered cushion, their assistant lightly ran her finger over their forehead with obvious fondness. That dragon was  _ tiny _ , far smaller than his parents and sisters. If he was being honest, Ahren hadn’t known dragons could even  _ get _ that small. They were roughly the length of Hollyhock’s arm and looked to weigh barely more than that.

It was shocking that  _ this _ was Lilam, the former youngest present member of the council. Their age was not a mark of their inexperience, though. Their species was a shorter-lived one, inhabiting the Sand Wastes to the southwest, but they were still a force to be reckoned with, the eldest child of their dynasty, trained in courtly life since they were old enough to toddle. Despite their blindness, Lilam was more than capable of anything and everything they set their mind to, their track record proved that.

Without a word, a yellow dragon across the table from them plucked a few orange blossoms that seemed to spring from her hair and began to make a little flower crown for them, placing it around Lilam’s neck after allowing them to sniff at it. A proud and smug aura filled the air around them as Lilam mused over their new jewelry, happily coiling into loose knots around the wooden carvings.

“Lilam, may we please remain on topic?” Councilmember Ezkei rubbed at her brow with the tips of her fingers while Ahren held back what he had been informed was the onset of a ‘panic attack’. “I would rather finish the bulk of these negotiations before the winter storms render the mountain passes treacherous. Going home would be  _ very _ nice this season. Ah, and I am rubbing at my forehead with my left hand in fond exasperation.”

Ahren had to wince at her words. It was his fault this had taken so long. The passes were going to freeze over, and everyone from the Moonrakers was going to have to overwinter at the palace. All because he was an incompetent fool. Really, he wished Councilmember Ezkei would just punish him so all of them could continue on with their lives.

“But aren’t I cute?” Lilam twisted their head upside down with a playful smile, flaring out their wings for balance as they clung to the wood with their claws. “Don’t be so sour, Ezkei,” it was horrifying that they would even consider speaking to Councilmember Ezkei without using her full title, “you could cross over no problem.”

“I’d rather not cross over while I’m crossing over, Lilam, now let us get on with it.” She glanced back at the yellow dragon, tapping her hand on the table to get her attention. “Topax, dear, could you please review our last meeting?”

Topax looked up, suddenly in the conversation again. She stood, smoothing down her pink lacy sundress and fiddling with something in her ear. “Could you repeat that, Ezkei? I didn’t have my hearing aids on.”

Right, yes, Topax. Topax Sadionq from the brood of the Desert Flower. Tales of her mother had reached even Ahren in the mountains, warping from their travels over the desert and through the craggy peaks of his home. She was descended from one of the most powerful dragons to still walk the world, the creator of one of the most recent major players in the South. Ahren should feel honored to even be  _ allowed _ to be in her presence.

“Of course. I was wondering if you could please offer a review of the last meeting we held.” Councilmember Ezkei sat back like she was talking to just another person.

“Sure thing, Ezkei.” Councilmember Topax smiled, as overpowering as the sun in summer. “Last meeting, we tried to talk about getting a stronger flyway through the mountains than we already have so the smaller dragons could make it through in the winter instead of having to use the roads, but we hit a snag because Ezkei’s clan only owns half of the territory for the pass we need and we had to draft a letter to the local towns and they haven’t gotten back to us yet because that was two days ago, so we’re still waiting on that before we can proceed.”

Ah, so Councilmember Topax didn’t need to breathe.

“And  _ then _ Lilam and Kestrel got into an argument and it was very cute. And then K brought up making a clearance corridor through the kingdom so the mountain-folk can get to the ocean-folk without worrying about being shot down on accident or weird wind currents or storms or bumping into someone else’s territory, and we brought it up to the Queen Malaidor and she said she’d put us in touch with people, so Lirrra and K volunteered to run point on the northern and eastern half of that while Kestrel and I are dealing with the south and west. Am I missing anything?”

If she could repeat all that, Ahren would be very thankful.

Lirrra raised her hand, comprehending perfectly. “I do believe we spoke briefly on which major clans have forgone their duties by not sending a delegate, and I would like to extend to Ahren the relief that the Jarra and Hzsii union will be removed from that list as soon as we file a bit of paperwork.”

“Thank you, Councilmember Lirrra, I greatly appreciate your efforts and am in your debt.” Ahren tried to convey as much politeness as he possibly could.

The woman waved it away like it was nothing at all. “I dismiss the thought. Consider it paid in full.”

That was too kind.  _ Everyone _ was being too kind, especially considering how atrociously Ahren had conducted himself by making them all wait. Perhaps they were just anticipating his punishment, not wanting to add more than he could handle. Yes, that was likely it. Whatever was in store for him, it was bad enough that all of these strangers couldn’t bear adding to it. The thought just made him want to curl up on himself like a child. This was ridiculous, he had withstood far worse. Ahren was to bear what he deserved with honor, not with cowardice.

There was some more talk, various things were discussed in great detail, from the proposed skyway, travel plans for after the talks abridged, and what Ahren was actually here for. It wasn’t that all else wasn’t exciting, only that it stung to hear people speak so freely of things he would be forbidden from using once he returned home.

Happily, Councilmember Topax clapped her hands, drawing the attention in the room to her, before loudly exclaiming that Ahren hadn’t sworn onto the alliance. A few chuckles broke out at that and some papers were procured, along with a pen. Unlike days of old, Ahren would not be required to sign in his own blood, and he was thankful that red ink would more than suffice. At least he could appreciate the symbolism.

It was a remarkably quick affair, Ahren simply reading over the papers and signing his name where it marked for him to, beside seven other signatures and a few witnesses. One of the guards was called over to sign as another witness, conducting himself with a level of formality Ahren could read as playful. After the guard took a faux solemn bow, the Council cheered and whistled before going back to their discussion.

He kept quiet, answering any questions posed to him as his fellow councilmembers plotted things out, a couple of them writing things down to later ask others for. The list quickly grew sizable, and the second half of the meeting was spent whittling it down to the bare essentials, progressing on the skyway, increasing trade between disparate Draconic cultures, and advancing on the treaty to unify the Draconic Autonomous Region further with Galailan. It was a good idea, in Ahren’s opinion, even if it came with a great deal of legwork.

As everything wound down and the tasks for their next meeting were set, there were promises to send word home and speed up things. Councilmember Kestrel was, apparently, planning an event as the weather cooled for all of the youths. It seemed to be quite fun, given the way Councilmembers Topax and Lilam were discussing it. From what Ahren could hear, there would also be children of nobles in attendance. It would be the perfect place to accelerate some of their ideas.

“Ahren,” Councilmember Topax’s voice carried across the room, cutting through the quiet conversation Councilmembers Lirrra, K, and Ezkei were having, “come on over!”

Blinking, Ahren hesitantly joined, keeping his motions respectful as people’s attention turned to him. He could feel his cheeks heating up, as he kept his eyes squarely on the floor.

He could hear the smile in Councilmember Topax’s voice as she whispered, as if telling him some dark secret. “I know listening to the older folks can be boring, so consider this your saving grace.” In Ahren’s opinion, the discussion on taxes and clan unity had been quite interesting. “The three of us are throwing a party soon!”

Parties. He had heard of those. Hollyhock had mentioned being a fan of them back where he grew up, but Ahren had been unable to get much of anything out of the man as to what a party  _ was _ . From what he could gather, it involved music and dancing with people, though the purpose remained unclear.

“You’re invited, if you’d like to come.” Councilmember Kestrel interrupted his thoughts. “You can bring a few friends. It’s next weekend in the gardens at dusk.”

Ahren felt the gears in his brain slow, trying to process this. “I—er—um—maybe. I’ll, ah, I’ll see if I am free, Councilmember.” There was an incredibly small chance that he was going. The most likely outcome would just be Ahren, standing close to the edge, trying not to do anything wrong.

His stomach did flips when Councilmember Kestrel smiled at him. “Don’t call me ‘Councilmember’, I’m just Kestrel, and don’t worry about it, life happens. Just let me know if you can.”

Making all the correct niceties, Ahren hardly heard the rest of the conversations around him. Things seemed to wind down after a little while, the buzz of words growing less serious, even by the older members, and more conversational, speaking of things they had done. It was odd, it felt like nothing had truly been done, and yet, here everyone was, speaking of lunch plans as a recess was called.

He eavesdropped here and there, listening to people promising to meet up for dinner to further discuss things between their clans or to gossip about something or other. Was there not more work to be done? This had taken up all of three hours, four, if he was counting additional discussions. Was this… was this also something he was to do? Speak to the others out of meetings in order to further niceties between their clans?

As Councilmember Ezkei began to gather her things, ready to head out with Lirrra and K to eat, she glanced at Ahren, eyes steady. “It is good to finally have you.”

There was a rasp in her voice, volume low. It was the sound that stemmed from using a breath weapon recently. Ice trickled down Ahren’s back as he remembered the infernos his mother would scream out in her rages. Councilmember Ezkei didn’t seem like one for infernos, but who was Ahren to know.

“Thank you, Councilmember.” Ahren kept his head down and his voice soft. Better not to anger her. “It is an honor to be here.”

A pause stretched out, the mark of Ahren’s failure. “Are you quite alright?”

He at least knew the right answer to this one. “Yes, I am, Councilmember. Is there a reason that I should not be?”

She adjusted her headscarf and wrapped her shawl tighter about herself. Surprisingly enough, Councilmember Ezkei was short, far shorter than him. She barely came up to his shoulder. It was her presence, Ahren reasoned, her presence made her seem all the more taller.

“I was simply inquiring. I shall see you after the recess, then, unless you should like to take lunch with Lirrra, K, and I? We were considering visiting a restaurant the Princess Adira recommended to us that was meant to serve accurate food from the Moonrakers. We would be more than happy to include you, hear about your own clan.” A polite smile graced her mouth, though it seemed to be a display of emotion she was not accustomed to.

“In an ideal world, I would love to,” Ahren did his best to ignore the way his heart raced, “but I fear that I have made plans with one of my companions to take lunch. I am deeply sorry, but I would be more than amenable for next time.”

That was accepted with a nod and an assent, and Ahren was mostly left alone to his devices as people left the room. A few called for carriages to cross the city while others went walking off, familiar enough with Dalitar to navigate its streets on their lonesome. The capitol could be a confusing place to traverse. At least Ahren had time to find the restaurant he and Holly had agreed on an hour early, spending the extra time by glancing at shops and other buildings around as he waited for his half-elf. It would be a relief to see someone familiar.

‘His’ half-elf. Now that was a funny joke.


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Marsh goes to school!

According to everyone else, Marsh wasn’t practicing medicine the right way. It was a stupid thought—they’d been taught by their own father, who most certainly practiced medicine right. Just because they didn’t have a hospital to send their patients or any of the fancy technology they had here didn’t mean they were doing anything wrong. They were just working within the confines of what they had on hand as a medic in the middle of nowhere. At least their patient survival was higher.

At Malaidor’s request, they’d been invited into the Royal Academy of Physicians to sit in on some classes and speak with surgeons and doctors because of their additions to the book they had. Apparently, their writing in the  _ Corpus Medicum _ had been groundbreaking for including and caring for non-standard species and recording in-the-field treatments. It had just been a matter of transcribing Ken’s work into something others could use. Really, it was shocking how quickly Centrailian and Territories medicine had been overlooked.

Though, if Marsh had to be honest, they started to fidget around when the director of the medical research started rambling about the innovations in patient care Marsh’s work had done. An unpleasant feeling churned in their stomach when he spoke of the ‘marvels’ and ‘miracles’ Marsh had recommended for treating half-elves, half-orcs, and Humanish. All they’d done was take their complaints seriously.

“They’re fine patients.” Marsh cut into his rambling. “I’ve never had any issues with them.”

A beat of silence passed between before the director clumsily tucked an invisible strand of hair behind his pointed ear, trying to keep his composure. “Well, yes, I can see how it might be easier to work with them when one is…” He cut himself off, picking a new topic. “How did you get into the medical field, by the by? It’s quite unusual to see people like yourself participating actively in medicine.”

Blinking at him nice and slow, deliberately misunderstanding, Marsh couldn’t help but feel petty. “I don’t know what you mean, most of the professionals I know are also from Centrailia—we  _ do _ have the highest concentration of medical professionals, you know.”

“Oh—ah—um…” As if seeing his own error, the director glanced at a half-elf in the back of the room.

There had only been two people in the meeting, held in the director’s office. The director himself was an elf, the pale skin of high breeding. He was almost certainly from a noble family, one that could afford to both send him to school and indulge him in his passions. Not a great deal of people were able to get an education during Essren’s rule. Behind him, sitting down in a plush chair and watching on in interest was a half-elf woman. Her ears were clipped in typical fashion, though her eyes, just a hint too bright a green to be human, gave her away.

Both of them were dressed for utility, rather than formality, despite the routineness of this meeting. It was interesting, interesting and a relief. If Marsh had walked in and found the two of them in suits, there wasn’t a doubt in their mind that they would’ve walked right out. How everyone around here could stand to jump through all the hoops of formality without losing their minds, Marsh didn’t know.

The room itself was a rather small thing, not at all what Marsh had expected from the title on the door. There was a desk in the center, one that the director sat behind. They had been motioned to take a seat in one of the chairs in front of the desk, while the half-elf lounged in one closer to a row of bookshelves, all packed to the brim with a myriad of reference guides, textbooks, and theses from former students. Sunlight streamed through the open window, catching on the knickknacks scattered over the desk.

There was a playful tone to her actions as the half-elf tilted her head. “Yes, Doctor Iudraine, I find myself confused as well. Just what are you implying? That certain people are less represented in the medical field for some possible reason?” Her voice had a northern accent. So, she had travelled a long way to be here. Not many people had come down from the North in a long time.

“N-no! Of course, I was not. That would be highly inappropriate.” Much to his chagrin, Doctor Iudraine kept his face impassive, if mollified.

With a roll of her eyes, the woman crossed her arms, smiling. “Think before you speak, Catrio, really. Half of your staff is non-standard.” He seemed to wilt under her criticism, a light blush staining his cheeks. To Marsh, she continued. “Hello, I’m so sorry to not have introduced myself. I am Armistice Ettidan, chief surgeon and vice dean. Don’t worry about Iudraine, he can just be a bit impulsive. He doesn’t mean any harm by it and he’s working on it, I assure you.”

They’d heard much worse anyway, an ill-thought-out implication was just an annoyance. “Mallowmarsh Goodfellow. Everyone calls me Marsh. Nice to meet you.”

“Oh!” She clapped her hands and split her face into a smile. Her smaller incisors were made of gold, something more common in the Far North. That was even odder, Eragah had not been in good relations with Galailan for very long at all, Essren’s distaste of orcs had seen to that. “We’ve spoken before in the  _ Corpus Medicum _ , I introduced myself as Mis, I specialize in the studies of merfolk and Humanish hormonal care.”

Yeah, Marsh remembered her now, or, at least, her writing style. She had been interesting to bounce questions off of. “I see. Good to finally be able to speak face to face. Your work on the varied onset of puberty in elf-crossed Humanish was a very helpful read.”

“Not as helpful as your work on structural differences in first- and second-generation half-orcs and half-elves. It has done miracles to the care we have been able to provide!” Her smile was wide. “It is quite a blessing to assist you with an expedited degree.”

“Oh, thank you. I just noticed that there wasn’t a lot about crosses and I had some expertise in that, so I filled in with what I knew. Good to know it was helpful.” Ken would’ve been proud of them. That thought hurt a surprising amount.

It had been a little while since they’d thought about him, their mother and father’s partner. He had been a wonderful parent, the less strict one by leaps and bounds. Marsh had always been able to weasel their way into his library or help out around his practice; he’d always been bad at saying ‘no’ to them, even if it culminated into an apprenticeship. At least he’d been in good hands when he died, the fever burning through his body like—

No. It didn’t do anyone good to ruminate. They could always visit his glen later in the spring, leave some incense to burn for his spirit.

As they refocused themselves on the conversation on hand, they watched Iudraine perk up, trying to apologize for his previous actions. “Oh? Have you had much experience with studying the culture and ways of half-elves?”

“To be fair, I’m legally a half-elf, so it was just what I’d been taught.” According to common law, three half-elf parents had set Marsh’s legal species as the same as theirs. “Second-generation, to be specific, but most of my patients are some cross.”

That there was a legal distinction between a half-elf born of half-elves and a half-elf born by a cross of two disparate species was… interesting. Medically, Marsh saw the point of it. By law, though? It was useless at best and discriminatory at worst. Everyone knew how first-generation half-elves were viewed less favorably.

Armistice’s face broke into a wide grin, doubling over in laughter as Iudraine went paler. “Oh, I see. My apologies, I did not mean to come off as presumptuous or rude.”

“You’re better than usual, but we will be having a talk afterwards.” Folding her arms as she straightened, Armistice was deeply enjoying watching Iudraine dig himself into a deeper hole. Even still, there was a fondness in her voice. “Good to see that you’re incorporating what you learned in the last diversity lecture.”

For working and living under Essren for as long as he did, Iudraine was doing surprisingly well.

As a beat of silence stretched, Marsh spoke up. “So, can we speak about my degree program?” They sounded a bit tired, but that was to be expected. “Queen Malaidor said that this meeting could also help with that.”

With a hum, Armistice nodded. “Of course we can. Iudraine, the paperwork.”

Sighing, Iudraine leafed through some of his drawers, taking out what seemed like intake forms. He grabbed a pen from the little holder on his desk, making a few markings right off of the bat.

“Here we go. One accelerated degree path. This is a rather new thing that we have been doing, under the direction of the Queen—she thought it would be good to standardize medical education while also helping people who already have experience practicing, fortunately for you. How many years have you been in the practice?”

Eight for pure learning, they were apprenticed from sixteen to twenty-two, then Ken died, what… two decades ago… “Twenty-six on my own, six in an apprenticeship. It would’ve been a longer apprenticeship, but my mentor died.”

“Oh, that’s quite tragic.” Armistice gave them a sympathetic look as Iudraine wrote the numbers down. “Were you two close?”

“He was my father.”

A stuttered apology made its way out of Iudraine’s mouth. “I’m so sorry, that must have been hard.”

Shrugging, Marsh kept their voice neutral. “It’s alright, it was a while ago. Anyway, what do you suggest in regards to the degree program? What are the required courses?”

That seemed to get everything back on topic, Iudraine relieved to not have to act as a grief counselor. “You could test out of several practicals, the basic ones, at least. After that, you would be able to attempt to further test out of classes with written exams and attend the higher-level ones upon your results. If all is successful, you would be able to finish enough for the certification within a year.”

“And, if one takes into considerations your contributions and long-standing professional history, you could accelerate that further, if the board approves, of course.” As Iudraine’s mouth opened, Armistice kept speaking. “A good ten years’ worth of contributions is enough to cover at  _ least _ a basic course in that species, no?”

It looked as if the exception was going to kill the director. “If only for the contributions. Would you be willing to do a few practicals next Arakor? A week from now.” Beside him, Armistice opened the folder in her hands. “Armistice would be able to proctor you, couldn’t she?”

Shrugging, she penciled in something into the papers inside the folder. “I could do from nine in the morning to noon, I’ll make the accommodations if need be.”

They’d have to wake up a bit early, but it wouldn’t be too bad. “Works for me. When would I start classes?”

The two exchanged a glance, arguing over entire paragraphs in less than a second. In the end, it was Armistice that spoke. “We could get you started overmorrow, or today, if that’s alright.”

“Okay. This building, right?”

She shook her head. “No, but it’s in this complex. I could arrange for a tour once you get your schedule settled. If you would step outside, Barr-gent, the secretary for this round—I believe she was there when you came in, yes? She can get you a schedule made, along with all the appropriate identification.”

“Is she the orc woman?” Marsh vaguely remembered someone behind the desk but couldn’t place her face.

Nodding, Armistice smiled again. “She can help you with the paperwork, but, if I remember correctly, the crown is supporting you, so there shouldn’t be much of a problem. Once you finish up that, I’ll arrange for a brief but thorough tour. It was a pleasure to meet you in person, Sair Marsh.” She stuck her hand out for them to shake.

They obliged her. “You too. Thanks for all the help, really.”

“Of course, it is good to meet you as well, Sair Goodfellow.” Iudraine didn’t shake their hand but inclined his head respectfully. Vaguely, they remembered it being something that older elves did, back from the days where physical contact was immoral.

Despite everything, this seemed like a decent place. People cared about each other; it was plain to see in the ease with which they spoke. Even if Iudraine was a bit… old fashioned… he was still trying his very hardest. Now that they were looking, Marsh could see titles about the cultures of various species on the bookshelf off to the side, very clearly worn and oft read and marked up. Dog ears and little papers stuck out of the margins like leaves on bushes.

His treatment of Armistice, too, was notable. She was very clearly a half-elf, though her family had had her clipped at a young age. The two of them were so familiar with each other—chances were that they’d gone through the Academy at the same time and ended up sticking around. They certainly had the energy of two people that had been around each other for decades. It was kind of adorable, how easily they bickered and bantered without words getting in the way.

“Oh, it was very nice to meet you, too.” The script for small talk was relatively simple, no matter the environment. “I look forward to starting my education soon.”

Armistice’s face split into a toothy golden grin, her tawny skin seeming to glow in the light. “And I look forward to reading more of your findings, once you open your practice again, of course.

“Of course.”

There were a few chuckles, more handshakes, and Marsh was guided out of the room with some parting words. It was remarkable how good Armistice was at getting people out of Iudraine’s office, a skill that probably came from years and years of practice. Marsh didn’t even want to consider the kinds of fits that had been thrown in there, screaming matches over grades or denied applications. They’d seen some elf walking with their mother, test in hand, on the way here. The relief the two had felt that Marsh had reacted so calmly to what was required of them was almost palpable.

As the door closed behind them and muffled Higherspeak made itself faintly heard through the wooden door, Marsh did as was suggested and avoided listening to the various things being discussed, namely the faults in their processing system for scholarships from the crown, what classes should be waived due to Marsh’s research, and what they were going to order in for lunch. From what they could hear, the two had decided on ordering in some Eragaj food, despite Iudraine’s half-hearted protests. Let it not be said that Armistice was not efficient.

Finding Barr-gent didn’t pose much of an issue, she was sat at the counter labeled ‘Information’, so Marsh figured that going to her in search of information would be a good idea. The room itself was very nice, made up as a waiting area with offices all around it, chairs and low tables stacked high with magazines scattered throughout the entire area.

Barr-gent seemed like a nice person. True, Marsh hadn’t seen many Orcic people this far south that weren’t having some sort of medical emergency, but she looked put together and pleasant, wearing a simple, floral patterned button up that contrasted nicely against her dark green skin. Her hair was done up in braids, little silver beads woven into it. As she looked up and their metallic gazes met, she smiled, little crow’s feet crinkling at the corners of her eyes.

“I trust you need some assistance?” There was a slight accent in her voice, from Lower Eragah, if Marsh recalled correctly. They’d never been the best with Eragaj accents, though, and their patient from Lower Eragah had been a bit… incapacitated for much of their treatment.

Nodding, Marsh leaned against the counter. “I was told to talk to you about my paperwork and schedule?”

She made a thoughtful noise, pulling out some papers and a pen. “Are you a prospective student?”

“Yeah, I’m on the crown scholarship for an accelerated degree.”

“Ah, I see.” More sheets were placed atop the counter. “In that case, you have a great deal to fill out. There’s the general student intake—” she tapped a small stack of papers, “and then we have the advanced degree work—” a significantly larger stack, “and  _ then _ we can discuss scheduling. As the semester has started a week previous, there will be a bit of work to make up, depending on the class.”

“Okay, I can do that, thank you.” Taking the sheets into their hands, Marsh said a mental prayer for themselves. This was going to take decades, it seemed.

Barr-gent simply smiled at them. “If you have any questions, don’t be afraid to let me know. I’m here to help, after all.”

“Will do.”

As they sat down in a chair and got to work, Marsh found the intake forms to be far easier than they’d seemed at first blush. All they really needed was their information, name, age, and scholarship information. It was a bit odd to be filling out more forms after the flurry of paperwork all of them were subject to when they first entered the city, but at least the answers were obvious.

The forms for their advanced degree were… less forgiving. They required writing down as much as Marsh could about what they’d done in the past two decades medically; everything about the procedures they were familiar with, the ages they practiced on, the schools of medicine they followed, anything. After that, there were more questions, many, many more questions. In the hopes of mitigating an oncoming migraine, they found themselves asking Barr-gent for help with the later half, though she didn’t seem to mind.

She was good at her job, very good. The answers she gave were clear and concise, not the least bit interested in twisting around the formal words until Marsh was more turned around than they started. Her explanations were very easy to follow along. Why the administration had decided to use the more formal, confusing wordings rather than something more readily understandable, Marsh didn’t know. It would obviously be better if people didn’t need help to fill out the forms, but maybe it was just an issue for them. Marsh was not known for their skill with paperwork.

Soon enough, though, everything that needed to be finished was finished. As they handed the stacks of papers back to Barr-gent, a glance at the clock let Marsh know that a few hours had passed. Well, this was certainly a way to fill up their day. With Barr-gent’s help, Marsh drafted up a schedule, evidently able to skip a decent amount of introductory courses using their experience. There were going to be some tests they would have to sit for later this week, but they could live with that.

Gods, today had been tiring. Maybe they could talk Aidia into helping them with paperwork next time; she just  _ loved _ going through requirements and forms. Someone would enjoy it, in that case. At least Marsh had been granted permission to sit in on a class after their tour, one about hormonal differences between elves and half-elves that seemed interesting. Little things, little things.


	9. Chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The first day is always a boring one

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *floating facedown in a pool* *posts chapter*

Truly, Elden hated teaching this introductory course. It was so utterly boring, the same thing, year in and year out. No profound stirrings in the field seemed to touch this class, and as such, the syllabus remained unmodified. The history of magic was hardly as interesting as anything else in the school and Elden would have done such unspeakable things to trade with anyone, literally anyone.

All of the faces blurred together, too. Semester after semester, he’d see a class of students and know that, at most, a quarter of them would be graduating from the Academy. Half, at minimum, would be dropping out of his course this semester, unable to keep up with the workload. The species distribution was always the same, mostly elves with the occasional human and exchange student, all of the half-elves doing as he had in his schooling years, keeping their heads down as much as possible and praying no one noticed their flattened ears.

This year was different in that respect. There was a half-elf, sitting midway up the auditorium, no one around him. That wasn’t in itself unusual, of course. The man looked tired, black hair tied back in a simple ponytail, a few strands escaping to float around his face. A bronze pendant hung around his neck on a long chain, and, though Elden couldn’t see the emblem cast onto it, it was almost certainly a translator amulet. What drew his eye, though, were the man’s ears.

They weren’t clipped, not in the slightest. Some polite part of his brain informed Elden that he shouldn’t be staring, but it was just so shocking. Half-elves blended in, it was a simple fact of life. Elden had spent the last forty years of his doing everything he could to live up to his Elven family as an “adopted human”, and yet, here was this man, flaunting his species like it was nothing at all.

It was hard to tear his eyes away, but Elden did. That was new. That was very new. Resisting the urge to run his fingers over the flats of his ears in what would have been an obvious tell, he couldn’t help but wonder if that was what his would have looked like, ending in a short point, not long enough to be expressive. No, there was no use in crying over poor performances. A deep breath calmed his nerves somewhat as he continued his appraisal of the class.

There were so many elves. It was true every year, but, every year, nothing changed. For a school that proclaimed diversity and accommodations, they attracted a good amount of the same people: children of local wealthy, Elven families—almost certainly tied to the noble dynasties by a cousin or two—that expected their little sunshines to be the next greatest minds in the kingdom, and if Elden ‘chose’ not to give them all the best grades, then it was a problem with him and his teaching style. Needless to say, academic review was a constant in his profession.

Amulets and rings declared familial affiliations; Mendorias, Hilivis, and Geteriens sat amongst each other, forming a wall of Elven wealth, while other students sat on the outskirts, mingling. An Orcic man had situated himself closer to the front, setting up his books for class to begin, while a small pack of humans all sat together, happily chattering.

Below the unclipped half-elf sat another human. Their short hair was a shock of white, eyes the dark copper brown of someone from the Near North. Elden could see the hearing aids they wore. So that must have been Sair Berry. Elden had been informed that they would need access to an interpreter, though that interpreter was going to arrive sometime in the next week. He could probably ask the class if someone could take notes for them until then, if only to lift some of the pressure off of their aids.

Clearing his throat and smoothing down his dark red robes, Elden got the class’s attention easily. The hum of conversation quieted down as faces turned to him, young and anticipatory for the lecture to begin. They were here for a reason, after all.

“Hello, everyone,” his voice carried through the room, “my name is Professor Elden Tryst. This class is History of Magic and Magical Discoveries, so if you should not be here, then take your leave now.”

He paused as a young-looking elf ran out of the door in a rush. Prayers be to that poor thing.

“Wonderful, we have one every year. Now, we have a rather large class, but I will do my best to learn all of your names. I do hope we will be able to have respectful discussions with each other. Additionally, I would like to bring to everyone’s attention to a student present in this class, Berry Silversmith. Sair Silversmith, could you please raise your hand?”

They paused, hesitantly raising their hand as all of the eyes swiveled to them. As if it would help, they tried to shrink down in their red robes. Oh. Right. Elden probably should have asked them about this. With all of the new shifts in acceptability, it was a bit hard to keep track of everything. The presentations the Elven Queen had instituted had been rather helpful, if a bit simplistic.

Continuing on, Elden let his voice remain confident and composed. “Mx. Silversmith is deaf and their interpreter has not yet arrived. On a related note: starting next week, we will have an interpreter in class. I expect them to be afforded the same respect I am. For the time being, though, would anyone be willing to share their notes with Sair Silversmith?”

There was concerned muttering as people (mostly elves) looked around, hoping someone else would take up the offer. The half-elf in the black leaned forward, tapping Berry on the shoulder. As they turned to look at him, he signed something to them, easy as speaking. Their face lit up like the sun. It must have been hard in the capital, hardly anyone signed. An exchange of sorts took place, ending in a concrete nod and two pleased smiles.

The half-elf turned back to the front speaking loud enough that his voice carried. “I’ll do it. I don’t mind.”

There was a lingering accent in the man’s voice marking him as from the Northwest Territories. That made sense, considering his appearance. The Northwest was not known for its love of social norms, who knew how many cross-breeds were running around out there, no care at all for how they appeared to polite society.

“Thank you, I am sure Mx. Silversmith will greatly appreciate your efforts.” Inclining his head in the half-elf’s direction, Elden kept his face politely unemotional.

The man responded in kind, neutral frown unchanging. It was acceptable enough, Elden could hardly expect perfection from someone born into such a different social sphere. His human family might have lobbied against sending him to a proper Elven school, if those even existed where he was raised, so Elden would have to be looser in regard to the rules of formalities for him.

With the class’s attention back on him again, he began the introductory lecture. It was a long and dry one, all about how he was to run the class. Despite the vain attempts at humor he tried to inject, he could see the non-elves slowly come to terms with the differences between Elven schooling and the various types of education they’d had. True, this wasn’t the most engaging thing in the world, but it was a necessity, nonetheless. The half-elf interspersed his notes with the scratching of a pen drawing.

When Elden paused for questions, at least ten hands would shoot up, the half-elf always a part of them. It was refreshing to see someone taking such an initiative in their education. He had to answer the questions of the elves first, of course, rooting through the evidence of their ignorance. Years of teaching had taught Elden that deviating from that would result in yet more paperwork from families that felt he was singling out their babies in favor of diversity and, by the time he had gotten through five, the maximum amount he could answer to keep the class on schedule, he would have just finished the elves.

The non-elves understood, there wasn’t much he could do about it that wouldn’t result in those elves going home and complaining him out of a job, unfortunate as it was. It killed him how, as they did every year, the hands stopped raising one by one. He always hated how that happened, people learning that they would not be able to be heard in the time they were allotted, resigning themselves to ask questions after class. The half-elf kept raising his hand, though. Good for him.

As the time came for class to begin wrapping up, Elden opened the floor for the final round of questions. As per usual, there were several elves eager to speak—this semester, there was an Elven girl who was keen to talk around and around in circles about her familial line of mages—while others were eager to ask about extra credit, more information about his late-work policy, his proposed take-home work for breaks.

Elden’s eyes fell onto the half-elf’s, and he felt something inside him strain against the normal current of his life. The half-elf was drumming his fingers against the desk in a steady rhythm, bored, maybe even annoyed at how he had been overlooked, and Elden could hear it. No, “hear” wasn’t the right word for it. Not the right sense, even. It was almost tactile, the way he could feel those fingertips drumming their beat against the inside of his skull, total and inescapable. Torn between needing to flee and remaining rooted to the spot, Elden watched as time stretched wide around him, fraying at the edges.

Ozone hung on the air like a morning fog, bitter herbs choked him, thick on his tongue, bordering on intolerable. It overrode every other thing he could sense, every other thought he could have. Staring, Elden couldn’t tear his eyes away from the man as a second more ticked by. It was as though there was a rope around his neck, pulling tighter and tighter.

He nodded at the half-elf, dread overpowering in his gut. The noose around his throat loosened a tad, allowing air. The man hadn’t cast, that was clear enough. So, he had an overprotective patron. Elden was going to have to keep an eye out for that—one couldn’t fault a pupil for the actions of their patron, they hardly had any control over their own magic, at this point.

Sure enough, the half-elf’s hand went down at Elden’s nod, the other continuing to beat out the tattoo on the inside of his head, fueling the ice running through Elden’s veins. Destroyer save him from his own mind, his own fear. The urge to flee right here, right now, in front of all these first years, had only lessened minutely. Elden was going to be sick from a sudden, overpowering fear of a lean, half-elf hick that looked like he was seconds away from drowning in his robes. It was a joke.

He looked tired, a lock of hair falling into his eyes—or, well, eye—as he spoke. “Sorry if this is common information, but why are we only learning about standard patron arcanacraft? I thought there would be more schools of magic than just one. Are they just not as effective or important?”

The tapping stopped as he spoke, and, like a bow across a cello finishing a performance, Elden could breathe again, released from whatever force had held him fast. The architecture of the room seemed to side with the half-elf, closing in on Elden and raising the half-elf higher, the bright, arcane lights burning into Elden’s back.

“There are—" His voice was dry and scratchy, raking its claws down his words. Clearing his throat, Elden continued on. “There are other schools of magic, Sair…” He hesitated, waiting for him to supply a name.

“Kenning. Sair Hollyhock Kenning, nice to meet you.” The half-elf rested his cheek on his hand as if this was his kitchen table and Elden had just walked in and plopped himself down. It was certainly… different. Was this how most people conversed in the Northwest Territories, with the assumption of equality?

“Sair Kenning, the pleasure is all mine.” The name was human in origin, from what little Elden knew of Northwest names. The syllables tasted odd in his mouth. “Standard craft, as it is called, is the only effective way of casting, with the exception of raw magic, of course. There are no other traditions of magic that hold a candle to the importance and efficiency of standard craft in this region of the world. Therefore, unless you are able to prove that another faction of magic is as powerful and accurate, we will not be discussing other traditions in this course. Thank you for your question.”

It was a good question, it had been a while since someone asked about other traditions. The fact that only standard practices had been formally researched with as much thoroughness and extensiveness as they had was certainly an exception to the rule. There had been cases of magic users that weren’t arcanists, but those were limited almost exclusively to fae, dragons, and divinities, able to become patrons.

Of course, some few cases of people partnering with a patron on their own instead of through a matchmaker bubbled up here and there, people who thought that methods used in times of old, before there was a regular, effective means of magic acquisition were better, but that was incredibly dangerous and rare, resulting in fatalities in most cases.

Slowly but surely, as his pulse returned to normal and the tension bled out of his body, Elden answered the rest of the class’s questions almost automatically. Responding to the elves who didn’t care enough to listen and others who were actually rather interested in what he had to say, Elden made a mental note to add a few references to non-standard magic to his future lectures. They would provide a nice foil to some concepts, at the very least, and he would be able to explain some of them easier. That, and it would be interesting to at least someone in the class.

Before long, it was time to set the students free to go about their day and head off to their next classes. They likely needed it, first years tended to wander around for the first couple of weeks like lost dogs, asking anyone who looked like they had their life together for directions to here or there.

As the students got up, dismissed, most of the aftereffects had faded away, Elden’s head no longer spinning, and the acrid scent of ozone and bitter herbs had dissipated. The half-elf, Hollyhock, it was, rose and signed something that might have been a joke to Berry, flashing them a jovial smile that was definitely not Elven.

Oh. Oh. Everything made sense now. It hadn’t been his Elven half who had raised Hollyhock, but his human. That was fascinating—most half-elves were either surrendered or taken in by their Elven parent, making something up about the benefits of adoption and ignoring the way the new child looked suspiciously like a certain human they knew. Staying with humans and remaining unclipped was… unheard of.

The last of the students filed out, a couple of them stopping to speak to him and ask a question or two. Hollyhock was among them, drumming his fingers on his leg as he took in the room, openly curious as he waited for his turn to speak. Odd, the man was quite odd.

“Yes?” Elden tried for a smile, knowing now that the gesture would be more welcome. Even without a mirror, he could tell it was lacking. “Do you have an inquiry?”

Blinking like he had forgotten why he was here in the first place, Hollyhock nodded. “I was wondering if there were any books you could recommend for non-standard patronships.”

That was certainly an interesting question. “I do know that Sair Blackwood has a few pieces published on them, though they may be a bit high-level. I would be more than happy to discuss them with you, if need be.”

“Sure, thanks.” A tense undertone ran through the man’s voice. “And thanks for the lecture, have a good afternoon.”

Elden’s returning “Good afternoon” was left unacknowledged as the man left with a polite smile, waving to Berry, who had evidently waited for him. Well, at least they had found a friend they could easily communicate with. That would certainly make the adjustment easier.

Packing up his things, Elden exited through a door hidden in the area a professor was to lecture in. As he disappeared into the labyrinth of hallways in between the classrooms, he was intent on making his way to the break room. He had left his focus there, after all, and he would rather pick it up before he was needed again for the next lecture.

It might have been annoying, at least at first, to care for a medal eager to bond with anything and everyone, but this was far better than the alternative. Elden had never been any good at wand-craft, so having an item to assist was a blessing. Even if said item spoke more than several of his acquaintances.

With any luck, one or two his colleagues would have holed up in the arcane-proof room. Sure as the sea air wafting in through open windows, what he had just experienced was divorced from normal, as far from standard-craft as one could get without being a patron entirely. Clearly, Hollyhock hadn’t been casting, but there had been no indication of his patron in the room, aside from Elden.

This had been something savage, wild and primal. Something base had padded through the room on silent paws, making its home in the beginnings and ends of stories, winding and weaving its way, unseen, unnoticed, unacknowledged into the core of the world, unable to be separated from reality, but unable to exist without reality itself.

It was the least artificial form of magic Elden had ever seen, and that, in and of itself, was the most unsettling part of the whole ordeal. Sair Kenning should not have had access to that kind of power, that kind of influence. He hadn’t even known he was doing it. More than anything, Elden would love to ask Hollyhock a million invasive questions. He didn’t even care that he had just been cast on, if it meant he learned of a new patron in existence. There was nothing like that in the Academy’s records, he already knew it. Briary was going to lose their mind when they heard about this, that was for sure.


	10. Chapter 10

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Holly's education continues

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sorry for the wonky posting schedule, life is just coming at me with a sledgehammer. i might go on hiatus after a month or so, only for a little bit

It wasn’t school that made him so exhausted, it was the absurdly high population of elves. Hollyhock now knew why his father had left Elven culture behind to live in a small town in the mountains with his mother: elves were absolutely insufferable, especially the pampered children of the upper class and nobility.

Those were so much more annoying. Their families had been in power since Essren’s time and hadn’t thought to change their ways of thinking about non-elves, and it showed. No one had any experience with other species. Somehow, Holly had almost forgotten Malaidor and Galengar were elves. They at least acted like normal people. Gods. Neither of them had asked to touch his ears or if his father had a thing for humans, and for that he was more than grateful.

Wand-craft was going to be tiring. Hollyhock could feel it in his soul. When he walked into the room, he was greeted with twelve tables, each seating two, a small cauldron and materials in between the seats. Most were already occupied, mostly elves, though there were two orcs who obviously knew each other and were unwilling to be parted off to the side. Swallowing his dread, he took a desk in the back, watching everyone else file in.

There was an elf fluttering around the front desk on light feet, a cauldron already being brought to a boil on a small flame set in the desk. She was short, maybe as tall as Hollyhock, with brown hair braided down one side and tan skin, tawny eyes on display behind thin-rimmed glasses. Her dark blue sleeves were rolled up, buttoned at the elbow to keep them where she wanted them. On the other end of the desk, a creature in a cat bed watched her, looking altogether bored.

Holly had never seen anything like it. It was almost a cat, if a cat could be made of wisps and shadows, slowly dripping upwards. Five glowing gold eyes peered out at the class, a little red collar and bell occasionally appearing beneath fur… goop… shadows? Whatever it was made of. Its tail flicked as it chirped for the elf’s attention, paws over the edge of the bed. She glanced at it, beaming down and giving it a little pet and a kissy noise before returning back to her work. Okay. Maybe wand-craft was going to be less tiring.

As the last of his classmates entered, the elf looked up, pushing her glasses up and clearing her throat.

“Okay, okay!” She clapped in time with her syllables, voice devoid of the high, bell-like affectation that elves put on for the sake of beauty. It had been kept in its natural, lower register. “Hello everyone that’s coming in! Please pick someone to sit next to, that’s your partner for the rest of the semester, Cycle willing!”

She spoke like an orc. Interesting. That made sense, with how she dressed, hair done up in a traditional Orcic style and the comfortable, warm clothes of Eragah. Not many elf children found their way into the arms of another species, especially across borders. Then again, there was the possibility of an Elven family up north surrendering a child. It was rude to speculate.

Drumming his fingers on the desk, Holly contented himself with half paying attention to the goings on around him. Snippets of conversations came to his ears in counts of eight, something about someone’s family going on vacation, someone else was complaining about the servants, a brother had gone to the Plainlands and chosen to stay there because he found a cute human to settle down with, so on, so forth. It was quite boring, really.

To no one’s surprise, Holly was among the last to get a table partner. Not many people would want the social stigma of partnering with someone so visibly a half-elf. It was fine, though, he didn’t know anyone in this class, but that didn’t really bother him. He wasn’t here to be a social butterfly and make a million and six friends, he was here to better control and understand how to deal with the powers he’d been given. It wouldn’t hurt if he made a few friends, but it wasn’t his top priority.

“Can I sit here?” A familiar voice sounded next to him.

His answer was an automatic “Sure.” No harm in being polite.

And then, Holly looked and was disappointed.

Elise from the very first day of classes seated herself next to him with a grin, moving her chair closer. Oh. Oh gods no. A week in, and this was already happening. Shifting his chair slightly away from her, hands folded neutrally on the desk while hers fidgeted with her hair, Holly’s heart dropped into his stomach. At least he was around other people.

With a yawn, the cat-thing stretched as the last student found a spot and settled in. The professor checked on one last thing in the cauldron and crossed to the front of the lab table, pushing a stray lock of hair out of her face and her glasses back up her nose.

“Hello, hello, everyone! My name is Professor Briary Denairo, and this is Introduction to Spellcraft and Wand-work. So sorry that we couldn’t meet last week, I had a touch of illness. If anyone happens to find themselves in the wrong class, then please leave now because we won’t have enough materials for everyone, but considering there hasn’t been a seating issue yet, I would assume everyone who’s here means to be here.”

She paused, giving people time to sort themselves out. No one got up to leave.

“Alright, perfect! Let’s just go through some brief introductions! I took the time to look over the class roster,” she lowered her voice in a stage whisper, “in case you don’t know, there’s pictures of your faces on there to help us learn your names,” in a normal tone, she continued, “but I might still mess up your names. Please correct me if I do, I won’t mind.”

Snapping her fingers twice, Professor Denairo extended her left hand, palm up, to the shadow cat at the end of the desk. It rose, tail swishing, and padded up, twining itself around her arm and onto her shoulders, to lay down like a very weird scarf. Three of its eyes drifted closed, though its tail remained twitching down the professor’s back.

Professor Denairo scratched under its chin like this was a perfectly normal creature. “This is Ba’uk, my familiar. He won’t bother you much, I promise. He’s a sweet thing, definitely won’t bite! He’s allowed to free roam, so if he takes an interest in you just do your best to not let him distract you. He’s a fan of being a distraction.”

She withdrew her hand, and Ba’uk curled up in the crook of her neck with an annoyed sound that was almost a meow. Meows typically weren’t backwards, in Holly’s experience.

“Now! Onto our class! In front of you, you will see a cauldron, a wand, three flasks of yellow, clear, and white liquid, respectively. Your cauldron should have water in it. Anyone have any problems already?”

Heads shook no, Holly and Elise included.

“Perfect and great! We’re going to be making a simple components-based potion today, something nice and simple to get the hang of using wands. It shouldn’t do anything much, this potion, when complete, will make a nice emerald-colored perfume. Something you can take home to your mothers… or others…” a chuckle bumbled around the room at her joke. “Now, if everyone would please turn at least one of your eyes to me, I will demonstrate what you all will be doing.”

Professor Denairo took a yellow flask in front of her. “First, you will light the fire under your cauldron and let it heat up. I did this before class, but you all can use that time to get to know your partner! I fully expect questions. There will be a test.”

Smiling at her own joke, she took a stick from the tray of items on her table and stirred the tinted water inside. Her cat watched, either not bothering or trained to not bat at the stick.

“After that, you take the extract of ambergris and pour that in.” She poured it in, incorporating it with the fluid in the cauldron. Setting the flask down, she picked up a clear one. “Next, the dew from blue rose buds.” Into the cauldron it went, right hand keeping up that constant stirring. The empty flask was replaced with the white one. “And finally, tears from a draikeg wyrmling.” Upon emptying the flask, she put it down and stopped stirring, components integrated.

A moment’s consideration passed before she kept speaking. “These aren’t from dragons, mind you. A draikeg is a separate species from over the Moonraker range. No one has made baby dragons cry for this spell.”

That seemed to alleviate a strain of tension that had run through the class. Hollyhock, for one, was rather happy at not having to explain to Ahren why he was using baby dragon tears in his perfume.

“Now, this is where it gets a bit tricky, and I don’t expect you all to get it on your first try.” Professor Denairo stopped stirring, watching the liquid inside swirl. “We will make this potion twice so everyone can have a try with working with wands. So, what to do. You take your wand in hand,” she lifted her own wand, a wooden stick with carvings on it, “and you project your intention into the cauldron. For this, you want to imagine it becoming green, and it will do the rest for you! For simple potions like this, the materials already want to be a certain way, you’re simply giving a push.”

Pointing the wand at the cauldron, she focused her thoughts. The hairs on the back of Holly’s neck stood on end. Wrongness filled the air, something being forced through a conduit it didn’t want to go through. It made him shudder, mind on edge. A visible crackle of magic down the length of the wand, frustration palpable.

Inside the cauldron, the solution turned a vibrant green and the smell of a rosy-musky perfume wafted through the room. As Professor Denairo put out the fire and Ba’uk moved off of her shoulder to pad along the desk, sniffing at the emptied flasks with polite curiosity, Holly couldn’t help but let the feeling linger. Magic wasn’t supposed to feel like that, straining against the caster’s will. Wasn’t it dangerous, not being able to properly guide it?

No one else seemed perturbed, though, and this  _ was _ the best place to learn arcana… Maybe it was just him.

“And that’s it!” Professor Denairo was saying, cheery as ever. “Now, go forth and cast! Oh, and I will open a window or two—we  _ do _ have windows this year, I made sure of it. The room can get just so stuffy in here when all of you are brewing and the vapors are trapped in here.” She crossed to the back of the room, throwing open the shutters, and conversation began.

Holly, trying to avoid the doe-eyed stare of Elise, started work on the class activity. Maybe Ahren would like this, he was always curious about new smells when he thought no one was looking. Out of the corner of his eye, he could see Elise lean closer to him. Well, that certainly wasn’t safe to do as he lit the fire and turned the knobs of the stovetop that the cauldron was sitting on as high as they could go, trying to make the water boil faster. Personal space was nice, when he was afforded it.

“So, how was your day?” She scooted her chair towards, staring.

Fixing a polite smile onto his face, Holly put some more space between them. “Fine. Yours?”

“Oh, it was  _ so _ boring, it was all things that we’ve covered in our primary education, wouldn’t you say?” Her voice came out closer to a whine than anything dignified.

“I found it interesting.” What a thrilling conversation.

Holly could see the exaggerated blinks without letting his attention waver. “Really? Why?”

“…Why?”

The oddness of the question seemed to manifest in her mind. “I—er—it must have been different from the usual things you encountered in school, yes?”

“Well,” Holly tilted his head, watching the swirling water as it shifted colors, “school back home was more math, reading, science, engineering, agriculture, the like. We didn’t have much in the way of magic lessons, so it’s interesting to learn about it. That and it’s nice to be taught by a half-elf, even if he acts like an elf.”

Slow, confused blinks met his response. His answer had stopped Elise in her tracks as she processed it. “Professor Tryst… isn’t a half-elf?”

Now  _ that _ was ridiculous. “Yes, he is.”

“Hollyhock, he’s a human.” …She had remembered his name?

Shaking his head, Holly drew his brows together. “It’s pretty obvious, Elise. Maybe you haven’t met a lot of half-elves, but I grew up with plenty. He might be clipped, but he’s a half-elf. Oh, I think this is almost done, why don’t you go first.”

With a confused nod, Elise tore her eyes away from him, taking up her wand with a practiced hand. Holly got the sinking feeling that he had the least experience in this class by droves. Deep breaths helped Elise center herself, apparently something needed to cast. Holly had never been good at that, even after all the times his father had insisted practicing meditation with him.

The wand was made of a wood he didn’t recognize, maybe oak, if oak was run through with veins of purple glass. It had been carved into a tapered rod, the handle inlaid with complex, twisting patterns. Even from here, Hollyhock could feel the wood biting into his skin, unnaturally cold. With a frown, he kept on stirring, hopefully making the water boil faster. It didn’t, but it was better than doing nothing and gave him the illusion that he was helping.

“So, what brings you to the Academy from so far away?” Elise rocked forward, waiting for the tell-tale bubbles.

Glancing at her out of the corner of his eye, Holly surmised he might as well let this conversation continue. At least Elise seemed to understand not to ask about his ears again. “Extenuating circumstances and a generous benefactor.”

“Really? Was it your Elven family? Are you staying with them?”

“No.” Gods, why couldn’t this water boil faster.

“Oh, my apologies. Are you not in contact with your Elven family?” There was genuine sympathy in her voice.

A frown graced Holly’s face. “No, my mother and father are still married and perfectly happy. I just felt it wasn’t fair to uproot the whole family for this.”

“Really?” Her eyes were wide. “I’ve never heard of a mixed-species family, that’s so interesting!” As Holly’s frown deepened, she chattered on, attempting to salvage the conversation. “I would love to meet them sometime, if that’s permitted, of course.”

Absolutely not. “They’re a long ways away right now.”

Tilting her head in a way Holly could only assume she thought attractive, Elise batted her eyes at him. “Then, does that mean you’re boarding here?”

“No.”

She pouted, unhappy with how little specificity she was getting. “Then where are you staying?”

“With friends.”

She lit up like a town in the festival weeks of Jalias-an. Wrong answer. “Can I meet them? I’d love to see!”

“Where I live?” Dread settled into the pit of Holly’s stomach.

She nodded, a pantomime of excitement. “Yes!”

“No.”

“Why not?”

The cauldron was just about to boil, he was almost done with this conversation, he could see the beginnings of bubbles lining the sides.

“It’s not my place to invite you to. It’s not polite. The cauldron’s about to boil over, are you ready to cast?”

“Sure, I can show you how it’s done.” Standing, she gave him a wink.

Holly very skillfully restrained himself from mentioning his partners. He stepped aside without a word, letting her have at it. Pouring the flasks into the cauldron in the correct order and setting them down on the table neatly, Elise lifted the wand, trying to cast. There was a tremor in her hand, Holly noticed, not one of nerves. Huh.

After a moment, nothing happened. Then, nothing happened again.

Luckily for her, third time was the charm, though. Magic crackled down the length of the wood, frustrated at having to be channeled. The rage sent a shiver down Holly’s spine, strong enough that he could feel it slamming at the confines of the wand. It was going to break the wood and glass, he was sure of it. In front of the pair, the contents of the cauldron turned from a pastel mustard-yellow to a murky green, not nearly as vibrant as Holly’s eye. The smell from it was discordant and wrong, but there was rose and musk.

Professor Denairo noticed, approaching them with a large bottle and smile. It seemed Elise had done well on her first try. Upon examining the contents of the cauldron, the professor nodded and poured them into the bottle, corking it tightly.

“Wonderful work, Sair Mendoria! I would just recommend that you wait a tad longer and make sure that all of the components are well incorporated the next time you brew. You’re free to take this home, should you want it.”

Why did that last name sound familiar? Something from Aidia’s rants? She knew everything about the Elven noble families, might as well ask her after school. At least Holly knew enough that he could place her as out of the three royal dynasties, though he had heard the last names bounced around here and there.

“Thank you, Professor Denairo.” Elise bowed her head respectfully, taking the bottle.

Returning the gesture, Professor Denairo spirited herself away to help other students.

Without a second thought, Elise handed Holly the cauldron handle. “Can you clean this for your turn? I’m no good at tidying.” The tittering laugh did nothing to endear her to him.

“Sure.” He wasn’t going to fight her on this, he was too tired for  _ that _ ordeal. Maybe he could convince Ahren to take a nap with him later. All the hormones in the dragon’s body meant that naptime never remained just naptime for long.

Rinsing the cauldron out quickly and filling it back up with the appropriate amount of water to let boil, Holly imagined he was back home, doing the dishes after Dad made dinner. He missed that the most, his dad’s cooking. Sure, Marsh and Aidia were fine, but there was nothing like coming back from a trading trip a few towns over to Illiun’s cake cooling on the counter.

There was no time to reminisce as he fielded Elise’s questions, conversation twisting from his family and living situation as he managed to get her on a tangent about how her brother’s new girlfriend was just so trashy and not worth the family name she would get from a marriage. Holly neither understood nor cared, and, honestly, wished that poor girlfriend would gain enough sense to get out while she still could.

As the pot came to a boil, Holly combined the ingredients slower, taking pains to stir in between each addition to ensure everything was well incorporated. Professor Denairo had set to correcting them and it would be foolish not to follow her advice. Taking the wand in hand, he winced at the way it filled his veins with frost as he focused on turning the contents of the cauldron green.

At first, nothing happened. That was okay, not anything to fuss over. Elise hadn’t gotten it right the first time either. Then, nothing happened. Okay, this was fine. Nothing happened again. Oh. Oh no. Nothing happened. Nothing happened for the next ten minutes as his fingers went stiff from the frost. Why he had to learn to use this damnable thing, he didn’t know. What purpose was it if Holly could just cast the cauldron into what he wanted?

Soon enough, they were among the last groups still there and Elise had been complaining for the last five minutes, narrating what she felt Holly was doing wrong and trying to give him nonsensical pointers. Professor Denairo was beginning to notice them, finishing up helping another group, and Holly had had enough.

He slipped a hand under his eyepatch in exasperation, flipping it up to see the strings that hovered around the cauldron and put down the wand. Whatever Elise was saying to him was wholly ignored as he took a deep breath and truly focused, slipping into the mental state he found was best to cast in. Without trouble, he stated his intention loudly and firmly in his mind: the contents of the cauldron wanted to turn into an emerald green perfume.

Opening his mouth, pressing his palms into the cold table on either side of him, Holly opened his mouth to find the song that would do what he wanted. Something provided for him, selecting lyrics out of the haze of his mind, pulling notes and languages out of the ether and placing them upon his tongue like the leaves of plants.

_ “I forbid you, maidens aiy,” _ It was in Solaqen, this time. Dimly, Holly was aware of the lyrics’ meanings, attention dominated by the strings floating through the air in front of him, compromising the cauldron.

Heads turned. Hollyhock felt rather than saw the weight of confused gazes, wondering about the stupid half-elf that was  _ singing _ to his potion. Stupid for now, stupid until it worked. He knew how to cast, and he was  _ going _ to cast. This damn thing was going to become perfume whether it liked it or not.

_ “To wear  _ **_gold upon your hair,”_ **

Silence fell. Even Elise closed her mouth as people felt the pull of his voice, flawless and perfect, transfixing in every regard. It had taken a moment for Something to let the spell take effect. It had explained the slight delay to him during one of their weekly teatimes, that magic needed to understand, so the beginnings of a spell were usually context. It told the magic what was happening and why. In the pot, an essence stirred, curious, inquiring.

**_“To come or go by Moibarah,”_ **

It wanted to be green, it wanted to be perfume, that was what that essence told him, voice reminiscent of a child’s. Holly just gave it the permission to do so. It was different from when he had practiced, the responses from the woods closer to older, more ancient peoples, but Holly understood what he was to do. A bolt of arcane energy travelled from himself to the cauldron, a knot untying in the strings hovering through the liquid. He felt it give, slackening. The potion sighed in his mind, as if stretching out.

**_“For young Cu’den is there.”_ **

The sweet smell of perfume filled his nose as he finished the verse, covering the usual smell of ozone and bitter leaves. Good. Refocusing his eyes, Holly let the magic dispel without issue, arcane energy flickering away like reflections in a stream. He was greeted with a cauldron filled with the most emerald potion he’d ever seen. Nice.

The rest of the class, whoever had remained, was staring at him. Including Elise, including Professor Denairo. The students looked with slack-jawed wonder, as if they were debating whether or not they loved, hated, or feared him, while Elise held confusion, horror, and an unnerving adoration in her eyes, shocked still. That adoration hadn’t been him, Holly was sure about that. It was Professor Denairo that broke the silence, striding towards his table with a large bottle and examining his end result.

“This is, uh,” She cleared her throat, summoning her words back to her, “this is very good, Sair Kenning, though the means a bit unorthodox.”

“Thank you, Professor Denairo.” Holly bowed his head politely, fighting the blush off of his cheeks.

“I was unaware that you had already discovered your focus.” There wasn’t much confusion in her voice as she peered at him from behind her glasses. Oh, so he was a bit ahead of the class.

Holly lessened his smile a tad. “Was I not supposed to?”

Pouring his concoction into the bottle, Professor Denairo instructed everyone remaining to return to their potions. They obliged her, doing their best to look like they weren’t listening. How polite.

“It isn’t very typical, no, especially not for someone at your level of experience. It isn’t too uncommon—have you practiced on your own?” She stoppered the bottle and handed it to him.

It was made of a smooth glass, an enchantment buzzing just under his fingers.  **_Containment_ ** , the word popped into his mind like nothing at all. It was in the language of Things, as he was coming to call it, the words-that-were-not-words his patron spoke to him in, clear and exact in a way that would have been impossible had they been spoken aloud.

Outside of his mind, Holly replied, “I have, is that a problem?”

“No, not at all, though, could you see me after school? Not that you’re in trouble, I simply want to talk to you about casting and potentially putting you into a more advanced class, or, at the very least, brokering out something closer to your level. This is the first time you’ve tried a wand, yes?”

“Yes, Professor, it is.”

She smiled. “Right, then if you already have your focus wand-work won’t come very easily for you. Is immediately after school alright?”

“It is, Professor, thank you.” Hollyhock slipped the bottle into his bag, making sure it wouldn’t leak. It would be such a headache to have his things smell so strongly of the perfume.

“Then meet me in my office. It is in the graduate wing. If you get lost, ask the person at the front desk and they’ll know where I am.” Clapping both Holly and the still-dumbstruck Elise on the shoulders, Professor Denairo kept up that cheery tone. “You two are free to go! Congratulations on your first day!”

Mumbling thank-yous as he packed up, he heard her address Elise. “Oh, Sair Mendoria, could you please clean up your workstation and have it set to how it was before? I noticed that Mister Kenning hand cleaned up yours, and it would be very kind of you to return the favor, wouldn’t you think?”

“Yes, Professor Denairo.” Elise finally stopped staring at Holly, tearing her eyes away to focus on her own things.

An opening. Thank you Professor Denairo. As politely as he could while escaping into the hallway, Holly wished the both of them goodbye and managed to duck out of the room.

Well. That hadn’t gone that bad, all things considered. Wands didn’t look all that effective, really. They were stable, kind of, but they had very limited power and flexibility. Maybe that’s why they tried to start everyone on wands, to help them learn to channel their emotions and will into magic and be more precise when they used something that actually worked.

More than anything, he hoped this wouldn’t be the start of something he would come to dread, this class. Professor Denairo seemed like she was rather accepting of most people, not blinking at the variety in her class. She definitely hadn’t been raised by elves, even Holly could tell that, and that she didn’t scowl at him for the full class time was certainly a plus. Most of the elves here ended up being scowlers, so a friendly face was a rare blessing.

She reminded him a bit of his father. Not in that they looked similar, no. She was a five-foot seven woman with a white streak in her light brown hair and pale brown eyes, nothing like the dark brown-haired waif of an elf with mismatched eyes and a penchant for wandering into the mountains for weeks at a time to look at rocks that his mother had fallen in love with.

They were similar in manner, though, flitting from topic to topic like caffeinated hummingbirds, excited with the world at large. Holly’d gotten that from his father, that was a fond joke in the Kenning household. His mother was the stabilizing influence on the family, directing and focusing their attention onto constructive tasks. It was the ear flick. That was it, the way Professor Denairo and his father’s ears flicked up slightly when they were excited about something, how they held them low and still when they were thinking hard, the quiver of the right or left ear when something caught their attention.

Holly missed his dad. He missed him very much. It wasn’t as if he was dead or anything quite so permanent, he was just two months of travel away and he hadn’t gotten a response to the letter he sent, telling his family that he had arrived safely to the capital and had a steady address. It would take time, he reassured himself, wandering through hallways that all looked the same, it would take time. The mail system was not nearly as effective here as it was at home. It didn’t stop him missing his family any less.


	11. Chapter 11

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Aidia has a nice chat :)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> lets all pretend i didn't accidentally post the wrong chap haha

Like smoke from the fire the library had revealed its secrets to her. Praise the Creator, Destroyer and Wanderer that the library had elected to ally with Aidia in her search. She would follow the head librarian into the fires raging at the beginnings of time after all they’d done for her. It had been more than hard to get her hands on these documents. They would need to invent new descriptors for the kinds of tribulations she waded through.

She had found a list. A teeny, tiny, itty bitty list buried in a book that had barely anything to do with  _ anything _ . An afterthought, it detailed the coming and goings of Essren’s personal guard throughout the latter decades of his reign. It was valuable to nobody but her, and yet, there it was, in her hands, proving her point. One Miss Shadrach-Daibrou, unmarried orc woman, working from 9798 to 9830. Dismissed due to personal reasons.

No one was ever dismissed due to personal reasons, that simply wasn’t how the palace under Essren worked. One would be on his staff until he tired of them, shipping them off to somewhere else, a ‘kyani, if he disliked them enough. There was no record of that here, though. No. Her mother had been properly dismissed. The evidence was damning. This was  _ proof _ that he had access to her mother around the time Aidia was conceived, proof that Aidia was his child.

Oh, her mother would be so proud of her, of her folder of proof, of her folder that  _ cemented _ her claim to the throne. Queen Malaidor would be forced to accept her claim, especially under the current system. There was no current dauphin, the throne clearly wasn’t going to Adira, and Queen Malaidor had yet to make a selection from a noble dynasty. She had a shot, she had a good shot.

In all honesty, Aidia didn’t exactly think through what would happen when she excitedly bustled out of the library, everything but sprinting to the receiving room. The Queen would be on her throne, seeing people at this time. The guards greeted her a bit uncertainly, her face familiar and excitement palatable. When she urged for an audience with Malaidor, they let her in, as it seemed that the Elven Queen’s last audience had ended. Aidia would make sure that never happened when  _ she _ was queen, that was for sure. People would be eager to speak with her. Bowing as an afterthought, she tried to steady herself.

“Miss Daibrou, what brings you here?” Queen Malaidor’s voice was as calm and emotionless as ever, unaware of her precarious position.

The words bustled out of Aidia’s mouth before she could stop them, hands clutching the folder like a talisman. “I have evidence that I have a valid and present claim to your throne, Your Majesty.”

Malaidor took it surprisingly well, eyebrows lifting in the slightest indication of amusement as Aidia offered her the folder, leafing through the papers idly while Aidia struggled not to bounce on her toes, fighting the grin off of her face. How kind of her to present an impassive face as the Queen was met with the truth of how she had stolen the throne.

With an ambiguous hum, Malaidor shut the folder and handed it back to Aidia without much fanfare, motions smooth. Her hands didn’t even tremble.

“Well, I was not aware you were one of Essren’s children.” Was all she said.

“It isn’t very much something I was taught to advertise, my Queen.” There was a sinking feeling in Aidia’s stomach. This wasn’t the reaction she had anticipated. Was she going to be thrown into prison and left to rot, never seeing the sun again?

Queen Malaidor nodded once. “That is understandable. Now, as to your claim, I do regret to inform you that: Essren did not name any child heirs as his dauphin. As you are aware, I was the only eligible individual to be named dauphin so, even if you had been a full-blooded heir, the throne would still have gone to me. Secondly, it was the wedlock mandate which led you to this, is that correct?”

Aidia assented, joy dripping from her mind to pool around her feet like a pond, overgrown with weeds and algae choking the water.

“Right. Then you should be aware the wedlock mandate does not apply retroactively. Thirdly, there is the issue of birthright. You were not recognized when the issue of the dauphin was brought up, and, thus, you were not named it.” Queen Malaidor looked actually apologetic. “My apologies. Your research is strong, but you are neither his firstborn nor have any more a claim than she does.”

“Oh.” Was all Aidia could say.

The Elven Queen didn’t lie. At all. It was common knowledge; Queen Malaidor would burn alive before she told a lie.

For her part, the Queen thought for a moment, watching the excitement drain out of the room as Aidia came to terms with just how rude she had been. She was going to hang for this. “I do have a potential compromise, should you like to hear it.”

What did Aidia have to lose? “What is it, my Queen?”

“You could train under me, join the court and work while Sairs Hollyhock, Marsh, and Delegate Ahren study and negotiate, respectively, of course. I do believe that you would make a fine courtesan, if given the proper education and chance, and, by being a member of my court, it would qualify you for an invitation to become dauphin if I feel that you would be good for the kingdom.”

This was too good to be true. There  _ had _ to be some kind of catch, something that Aidia was missing, some fiendish twist to the Queen’s words that would bind Aidia to some kind of permanent indentured servitude or something. Queen Malaidor wouldn’t just be making a path right through the palace for her like that, could she? It was ridiculous, the both of them would be laughing stocks: the Queen that called upon a half-orc and the half-orc that followed her.

“What about Princess Adira, Your Majesty?” Aidia’s voice was steady, and she was proud of herself for that.

This must have been her angle, to pit Aidia against her daughter. It would teach Adira ambition and Aidia to curb hers, lessons that would serve the Queen well. Dungeons or learning to hold her tongue, the choice appeared before Aidia, grim in its finality. This was to be what decided the course of her life, wasn’t it.

Ignoring Aidia’s silent deliberation, Malaidor merely shook her head, serene as ever. “Princess Adira has spoken to me numerous times on how she does not wish to gain the throne when I acquiesce it. There would be no challenge raised from her as to an apprenticeship.”

…Queen Malaidor intended to step down? The very thought was unheard of, treasonous, even—royalty didn’t step down, especially not in the modern age.

Nevertheless, the Queen continued, perfectly serious as if this were a completely reasonable demand. “Do not misunderstand me, though. You  _ will _ have challenges, from those in and out of the court. People will disrespect you on your heritage. People will feel more than free to dig up anything about your past that they are able to. Without a doubt, anything they find will be used against you and your loved ones. People will use your loved ones against you. Do you understand that?”

Aidia couldn’t bring herself to respond, too busy remembering how to make syllables into words. She simply  _ had _ to be dreaming. The silence between them stretched as her Queen waited for an answer. This conversation was not progressing without her.

“Yes, Your Majesty, I understand.” Her voice sounded so unlike her, betraying her youth.

“Good. And ‘Malaidor’ is just fine, I have a name for a reason. Take my experience and my mistakes to heart, Sair Daibrou: this is far from a pleasant and easy position to hold.”

There was an undercurrent of something dark in her voice, like she was thinking of moments in her past that she would rather remain covered by time. Let it not be said that people had been fair to Malaidor—especially at the start of her reign. Interview questions and unscrupulous research became gossip and common knowledge, but that was the risk that came with a public position; Aidia was more than happy to take it.

“May I ask a question, Your Majesty?” Her fingers worried at the edge of the folder. She would combust before she called her  _ Queen _ by her first name.

“I pray that you do, Sair Daibrou.”

Before the words were out of her mouth, Aidia knew this was a mistake. “I hope you don’t find this rude, but why did you lead the revolt instead of letting Essren finish his reign? You were the dauphin anyway, surely you could have waited?”

She could see the sigh in Queen Malaidor’s body more than she heard it. Only the barest hint of an exhale escaped the tension trapped in her entire being, fainter than the wind outside. “People were being needlessly hurt. I took it upon myself to ensure that it stopped. I wanted a stop to the razings and the destruction. For my efforts, I was given an order of execution.”

Every thought Aidia ever had ground to a sudden halt. That was  _ not _ something to reveal with all the drama and excitement as reading a shopping list. Aidia had never in her life heard anything about this. There was nothing in the history books about that, most just informing the reader how there was a year and a half of lost time in Malaidor’s life. When she had looked through prisoner names, there hadn’t been any mention of Queen Malaidor at all. Aidia would have remembered that. How could the entire kingdom have just… forgotten about this fact, or was Malaidor making it up?

The disbelief must have shown on her face, but the explanation the Elven Queen offered up didn’t help in the slightest.

“My current husband retrieved me from the gallows before I was to hang. We then travelled with a small band of people who, for the purposes of this story, we will call friends,” her tone implied that ‘friends’ was an exaggeration, “and had our little coup after that. They are partly the reason I am now trying to bring Galailan into the global discussion, rather than just the regional.” She waved the whole ‘disappearing’ and ‘leading a coup’ and ‘being stolen from the gallows’ aside like it happened every week.

“That is… I wasn’t aware of that.” What did one say to that?

Queen Malaidor held her palms up like she had read about a shrug once. “I used to speak about it more in the beginning of my reign, but it was assumed to be a false rumor or boast, and there were more important things to get done anyway. Around that time, we were working to assist the refugees settling in the Northwest Territories and Centrailia from the ‘kyani camps and the Solaq. I am aware it’s a difficult story to believe, but it’s true.”

“I believe you.” To her surprise, Aidia did. The Queen didn’t lie. She might have conducted herself without emotion or affect, but she didn’t lie.

There was a trace of genuine gratitude when the Queen spoke again. “Thank you. I am not a fan of being called a liar.”

“How did you disappear?” The question was out of Aidia’s mouth before she could help it. “When you were planning your coup. Sorry if this is too forward, I have just been quite interested in how you accomplished it. There aren’t many sources that speak of it.”

The hint of a smile glinted in Queen Malaidor’s eyes. “I fear you wouldn’t believe  _ that _ answer.”

Aidia shook her head. “I would. I promise you.”

“I jumped through an unstable rift into the Solaq.”

“You didn’t.” It was impossible, horribly dangerous and… and going to get Aidia executed for disrespecting her Queen so severely.

Queen Malaidor laughed. Aidia had never heard of Queen Malaidor cracking a smile, forget  _ laughing _ . That simply wasn’t a thing she did, the Elven Queen did not smile or cry, she certainly didn’t laugh at stupid half-orc girls openly calling her a liar. Even the guards on the edge of the room seemed shocked at this. None of them had batted an eye when Aidia barged in, trying to take the throne, but this, this laughing, was shocking to them.

“It’s true, dear.” The laughter slowed, a faint smile remaining on Queen Malaidor’s face. “As shocking as it is, I am not as sheltered and naïve as you think I am. Now, let us get some paperwork in here so that I might name you as my apprentice, yes?”

“Oh, um, yes, Y—Malaidor.” Looking to the side, a guard on the wall was already leaving to get what the Elven Queen had requested. He was back quickly, handing a thin binder to the Queen and bowing respectfully.

“Thank you, Sair Olam.” She inclined her head to him, and Olam replied with a quiet “You’re welcome” before assuming his position on the wall. Beckoning Aidia closer, she handed her the binder.

Lowering her voice like she was telling Aidia a secret, Queen Malaidor let an undercurrent of humor run through her voice. Up close, the Queen looked far more imposing. Her eyes were like steel, pale enough that they almost got lost in the whites of her eyes. It was eerie, just how colorless she looked, hair barely blonde past the platinum. If someone had told Aidia the Queen was made of ice, she would have no choice but to take their word as fact.

“Why don’t you get these all filled out and see me again, alright? If I’m busy, just let my aide know and xe can pencil you in whenever I’m free. We can begin as soon as you have that done. I  _ do _ have a meeting with the Madam Diplomat and chief of the security council of the Sand Wastes tomorrow, so if you would like to sit in and take notes, then you might want to have those done sooner rather than later. We aren’t speaking of anything of particular interest, just a new student exchange initiative, though it will be a good meeting to learn the basic formula from.”

Aidia didn’t have words to convey how absolutely incredible that sounded. Filling out those papers immediately suddenly seemed like an appealing prospect, despite the revealing weight of the binder. It was worth it, a thousand times over, it was worth it.

“I was unaware that the Republic of Hassett was in communication with us again. That is quite the achievement.” Politely, she tried to keep the amazement out of her voice.

Hassett had hated Galailan since the beginnings of Essren’s reign; that Queen Malaidor could even get them at the table, never mind for something the Queen considered routine for the two countries, was incredible.

“That it is.” Queen Malaidor folded her hands in her lap. Evidently, this was an easy topic of conversation for her. “Relations have greatly improved in the past six years, and I am quite thankful for that. The Madam President of Hassett is quite a pleasure to speak with and I am always happy to host her cabinet. Her advice was priceless when I was raising Princess Adira.”

“I… did not hear of this, so it comes as a shock to me. I am normally up to date on political events.” How had Aidia not read about this? Something like this should have been front page news for months!

The explanation was given in a calm, smooth voice. Queen Malaidor would be a good storyteller, the thought came to Aidia. “It was not widely reported outside of the capital district, as it did not affect much outside of Dalitar. Much of the changes affected the financial and academic districts, though the initial meeting was more publicized. It wasn’t quite an event, the important part of it all was the reopening of relations and neither the Madam President nor I felt the need to dramatize the ordeal. I do remember the restaurant we ate at was a lovely little place.”

Aidia was reeling. A country that had been closed to them for over a century had started to make peace with them again and their Queen considered it to be a minor event, not even worth publicizing. “I fear that I don’t know much about the Republic of Hassett. I don’t even know what language they speak there.”

“There are three main languages, though the most common one used in official correspondence is Estirilli. I find that one quite beautiful to hear, very melodic.”

Queen Malaidor’s fingers drummed against the armrest she thought of more things to tell her. Clearly this was something she was interested in, eyes drifting off to trace the curtains. Huh. It was interesting how that happened, the Queen forgetting about the importance of eye contact the instant conversation turned to something she was eager to speak about. Now that she was thinking about it, Aidia couldn’t recall a time when the Queen readily made eye contact save for today. It was as if she harbored some disdain for it.

Continuing on, Queen Malaidor’s fingers played at the velvet lining of her throne as she spoke. “Ssiniin is the second most common one would encounter down here, though it is spoken closer to the border and in the portion of Sand Wastes Galailan presides over. I very much doubt you would ever hear Shalassakh unless you crossed into Hassett and went west for several weeks, though it is a very nice language to hear.”

“I… was not aware of that.” Was all Aidia could say. Queen Malaidor was very knowledgeable about languages, it seemed. “I would love to sit in on the meeting; I’ll be sure to get these to you soon.”

The Elven Queen refocused her attention onto Aidia, looking at just above where her eyes were. Once Aidia started noticing it, it seemed that she wouldn’t be able to stop. The Queen really never made eye contact. Odd.

“Wonderful.” Her fingers stilled, as if she were consciously reigning in the impulse to shift and fidget. “I would think it best for you to be exposed to as many sections of the court as possible so that you would have some idea of how they operate. I would also like you to read up on history and law, not just locally but internationally. I will always be more than happy to speak with you on these topics, though I am not always available. Those would be good places to start.”

“Of course.” Aidia bowed flawlessly. Hopefully the Queen wouldn’t be reconsidering. “Thank you for grace and mercy, Queen Malaidor. I will endeavor not to disappoint you.”

The Queen gave her a look that could be construed as confused if Aidia wanted to be incredibly generous with her assessment. “Sair Aidia, you are a youth. I am not going to penalize you for being bold and curious. That would be quite hypocritical of me. I am impressed with your bravery, and you seem to be quite dedicated and knowledgeable. Who am I to punish such attributes?”

It would be treasonous to even harbor hopes of making her Queen proud. A position at her Majesty’s right hand was coveted enough to be impossible. She hadn’t even named a dauphin and here Queen Malaidor was, giving such a desirable post to a nobody half-orc that waltzed in with some mediocre research and ambition. No one was going to believe this; the noble families were going to be outraged. What was the Queen thinking would happen?

With a touch more small talk, Aidia let herself be dismissed, head fuzzy as she walked through the halls. If this was a dream, she was at least going to milk it for everything it had. None of them had been this realistic before. Returning to the library to do a suspiciously small stack of paperwork, Aidia pulled everything she could about the Republic of Hassett off of the shelves for later. The last thing Aidia wanted was to go into a meeting unprepared. If she was going to try for the throne, legitimately this time, then it was time to impress the Queen. Oh, Destroyer save her, her mother was going to have her head when she heard of this.

**Author's Note:**

> Related Works:  
> [ Scales Don't Work Well With Lace by Awkward_Dragon](https://archiveofourown.org/works/24123841)
> 
> liked the story? [leave a tip!](https://ko-fi.com/madlysacrosanct)  
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